


Pride And Poniards

by Cerdic519



Series: A Saga Of Immodesty And Frankness [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, AUSTEN Jane - Works, Game of Thrones (TV), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Arrogance, Brome - Freeform, Denial of Feelings, Embarrassment, England (Country), Exhaustion, F/M, Family, Happy Ending, Illegitimacy, Illnesses, Infidelity, Jealousy, London, Love, M/M, Marriage, Masturbation, Miscarriage (past), Misunderstandings, Money, Mpreg, Napoleonic Wars, Period Typical Attitudes, Pregnancy, References to Jane Austen, Rejection, Romance, Separations, Teasing, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-07 19:04:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Game of Thrones meets Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Because.With ten thousand a year to his name Mr. Jaime Lannister is assured of the attentions of ladies and omegas wherever he goes. And now he is going to Hertfordshire to visit with his former charge Mr. Arthur Dayne who, as sure as the sun rises in the east, will be fancying himself in love with some omega or other. Sigh. Even worse their cousin The Wicked Witch Of The North (aka Miss Kersey Lannister) without whom any room/county/planet is greatly improved, will be there waiting to try to get her talons into Jaime. Double sigh. It looks like being a difficult few weeks.The master of Pemberley has no idea just how difficult.(This is the main story so can be read on its own. Part 1 is stuff on what life in 1807 was like; you don't have to read that but it explains a few things you'll come across here.)





	1. A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaid_diah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaid_diah/gifts), [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts), [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



> Inspired also by the excellent _'The Confession of Fitzwilliam D'Arcy'_ by Mary Street, a rewrite of Pride & Prejudice from that gentleman's point of view. A poniard is a large ceremonial dagger, something a certain character will shortly find out can come up at the most surprising of times. Like something else (sorry).

**October 1807**

It is a truth that even I, Mr. Jaime Lannister master of Pemberley and nephew to the Earl of Hexhamshire, am compelled to acknowledge that a single alpha in possession of a good fortune _must_ be in want of a mate. It is also true that over-ambitious (and desperate) parents often think that their omega or daughter, provided they are adult and breathing, would make a suitable Lady or Laird of Pemberley. It often comes as an unpleasant surprise to said parents that, for some inexplicable reason, I have rather more exacting requirements for the person who will be blessed enough to share _my_ life. Let alone my bed.

I inherited Pemberley when I was but sixteen years of age, perhaps a touch too early as the ten thousand¹ a year that came with it allowed me to live the high life without regard for the ultimate cost. Said cost was indeed nearly as high, and only the death of my friend Arthur's father two years on and his request that I manage the boy's finances – he was thirteen at the time – forced me into a better appreciation of my responsibilities. I was able to see my fellow alpha through the next five years to when he assumed full control of his own five thousand a year which makes him a fine catch, and one I still have to protect from his own good nature. 

I should here mention two other people who are important in my life, one to its benefit and the other who has really only one bad habit. Breathing. 

I was, I admit, not the best behaved child when I was growing up. My father was determined to secure his lineage – he knew that if it failed the whole estate would pass to his brother Trawell whom he utterly detested – but after my birth my poor mother had a string of failed pregnancies, ending with the one which took her life and resulted in poor Tyrion when I was but ten years old. The boy had a difficult enough life ahead of him what with his being a dwarf, and I am ashamed to say that while we were growing up I treated him little better than Father. Fortunately I learned from my mistakes there at least.

Uncle Trawell had married my friend Arthur's aunt, Miss Janet Dayne, (our two families had a long-standing acquaintance) and they too found having children an issue. Of their six children only one survived, and I must presume that it was the Good Lord's oft-quoted sense of humour that that was the dreadful Kersey. Either that or Satan was not ready for the competition! I would go as far as to call her a slut, because she is one; incredibly after all that had happened (more of which anon) she still entertains the bizarre idea that she and I might marry one day! Apart from my preference for omegas, I would sooner marry a Frenchwoman!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Netherfield Park, the place Arthur had taken for a time, was a fair-sized house situated not far close to main road between Derbyshire and London. I approached with some trepidation, and not just because I knew Kersey was there and that for some very unfair reason garlic did not work on her. My unease was because for all his fine qualities that I helped to nurture in him, Arthur remains possessed of one terrible habit. He is prone to imagine that everyone around him should be in love as often as he himself is. At twenty-six I myself would prefer to marry sooner rather than later, but certainly not to some country bumpkin from somewhere like this out-of-the-way place. I have standards!

My former charge proved my fears fully justified when, just moments after my arrival – thankfully the Wicked Witch Of The North was out so at least I was spared her baleful presence - he casually mentioned that he had arranged for us to attend the county ball the following week. 

“Damnation, Adey!” I groused. “You know how I hate those things. We will not make it three feet through the door before every mama in the neighbourhood will be sizing us both up for matrimony!”

“Many of the locals have called round already”, he said cheerfully. “I like them a lot. I really would like to meet with more of them, and I think you would enjoy it too.”

“No! Absolutely no way am I going to some infernal ball!”

Arthur stared pleadingly at me. I groaned inwardly; he had this terrible pleading look that he was wont to use when he really wanted something, and the Good Lord seriously owed me for never having been able to refuse him.

“No!”, I said as firmly as I could muster. “And do not try that 'woe is me' look that you do so well! I. Am. Not. Going!”

 _“Please_ , Jaime.”

I huffed indignantly. This was Just Not On.

_“Please?”_

I scowled at the villain, then sighed in resignation.

“I hate you!” I grumbled though I was smiling as I said it. “You so owe me for this!”

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

The ball was to held the following Friday so I had some time to discover what I could about local society and potential dangers. Fortunately I was acquainted with Mrs. Wellow, Arthur's elderly housekeeper, and she proved the usual mine of information about who to watch out for (quite impressive given that she had only been in the county for less than a fortnight). Arthur, the cad, had suggested telling Kersey about my friendship with his housekeeper on the grounds that the shock of Nobility Talking To The Lower Orders might actually kill her, and I..... I had been tempted. 

About a mile away was the small town of Meryton and the ball would be held at Barras Lodge, its most prominent establishment that lay just this side of it. Despite the name it was a grand place, home to the widowed Lord Robert (Mrs. Wellow had pursed her lips at his name, a bad sign indeed) and his mother the dowager Lady Ophelia. He was heavily invested in the West Indies while she did good works in the neighbourhood and seemed to prefer her dogs to her family. He had had two sons from his marriage, an alpha Geoffrey (who earned another purse of the lips) and an omega Gendry (strange name), both in their twenties and presented to whatever passed for society in these parts. Mrs. Wellow spoke of the latter with particular approval, saying that the omega was rather plain (translation: dog-ugly) but quiet and well-mannered.

One road to Meryton led through the nearby village of Longbourn which could just be made out from the house if one stood on the sixth bedroom's balcony and leaned to the left (!). The principal house there, of the same name, was inhabited by the Blackwater family, Mr. and Mrs, with _five_ omegas sons; Bronn (another strange name, I thought), Edmund, Marcus, Oliver and Robert. All were presented despite the youngest being barely sixteen years of age, which I thought highly irregular. Mrs. Blackwater was a writer (I was impressed that the housekeeper managed to convey the phrase 'complete airhead' without actually saying it) while Mr. Blackwater managed his few lands. Their eldest son was 'not your regular omega', so perhaps he had two heads or something.

The Blackwater omegas had a little less than a thousand² each as the estate was fully entailed³ to some distant cousin. I was more than a little perturbed when the housekeeper revealed that there was a distant connection between myself and these social inferiors, namely that the cousin in question was the Reverend Harry (not Henry) Blackwater-Strickland⁴, Mr. Blackwater's nephew who I knew had just received the living⁵ at the house of my utterly terrifying Great-Aunt Alcyone down in Kent. I had never met the fellow although I wondered why an alpha would ever enter such a profession. He must have done something extremely bad in a previous life to have merited such an awful fate as dealing with my great-aunt almost every day!

New to the area and residing in Battle House in Meryton were the Paynes, an alpha uncle and omega nephew recently arrived from the United States 'but quite nice despite that' (I smiled inwardly at my informant's mild xenophobia). Young Roderick Payne was eighteen and had just been presented, and was said to be very wealthy in his own right. His uncle Lorrimer (an _American_ name, the housekeeper sniffed) was also his guardian and very protective. Master Payne was a 'quiet young boy, attractive but far too pale'; she was unsure whether they would attend but thought that given their recent arrival and the omega's shyness, it would be unlikely.

The other families of significance in the area were the Moremounts from Berkhamsted and the Starks from near St. Albans. The former, like the Barrases, consisted of three generations, and the youngest member Eleanor was down with colic just now so their attendance seemed unlikely. The Starks in contrast consisted of three young gentlemen of roughly the same age; two beta brothers Robert and Brandon (the younger at sixteen not yet presented) and an illegitimate alpha cousin Mr. Jonathan Snow who was between them in age at around twenty. Only Mr. Robert was currently in the area and Mrs. Wellow was unsure if he would attend or not. Something in her tone implied that she hoped not.

I thought, not for the first time, that this lady really needed to be employed spying against the French!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

The day before the ball Arthur came back from his walk and met me in the library.

“I have been returning the call that Mr. Blackwater made on me the other day”, he explained, folding his long limbs into a chair.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“You are leaving it late with one of the principal families, are you not Adey?” I teased. “They will feel offended that you failed to call on them first.”

“I would have”, he explained, “but Mrs. Wellow strongly advised me that today would be the best day to go.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

“Less chance of meeting the frightful Mrs. Blackwater!” he laughed. “Though I am glad that I went; I saw a drawing of Mr. Blackwater and the two eldest sons whilst I was waiting and one of the boys looked quite attractive.”

“Most people do when being drawn or the artist does not get paid!” I quipped. “The other must be truly hideous to have been portrayed as just ordinary. I would wager that they will both turn out to be country yokels like everyone else around here.”

He laughed at that. 

“Who knows?” he teased. “You may be less than twenty-four hours away from meeting the future Laird of Pemberley!”

I threw a cushion at him for that. The very idea!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

_Notes:_  
 _1: Worth at least £1.6 million ($2 million) a year at 2019 prices, probably much more._  
 _2: There was a difference between someone's settlement (Bronn's was just under £1,000) and their income arising from it. This was usually about a tenth of the settlement, so the omega could expect an annual income of about £90 (£14,000 or about $18,000 at 2019 prices). This placed him pretty much on the bottom rung of a society where money married money._  
 _3: An inheritance device aimed at preserving the family name and/or bloodline. Only alphas and betas could inherit, so being some eight years younger than her husband Mrs. Blackwater and her sons would be homeless when Mr. Blackwater died. There was a social obligation on the eventual inheritor to do something for them but no legal bond._  
 _4: The reverend's father, Theobald Blackwater's late brother James, had added his wife's surname to his own on marriage as he would otherwise have lost an inheritance of hers. The money and property of any wife or omega automatically passed to their husbands._  
 _5: The living in question would have yielded about £40,000 ($52,000) a year gross at 2019 prices._


	2. Getting The Point

**October 1807**

It was not going to be my evening. Arthur, the bastard, had tutted at me when I had quite reasonably suggested leaving the Wicked Witch Of The North behind because a long walk would do her (as well as my ears) good. And on our arrival at Barras Lodge the three of us had barely gotten through the door before all eyes turned on us. There was a pointed hush before the general chatter started up again.

Fresh meat, I thought. As predictable as the sun rising in the east. Or Kersey being... herself!

Arthur naturally put himself out to please and soon had his dance card filled, while the Wicked Witch clearly enjoyed herself looking down her nose at everyone and everything. I had to do my three duty dances, one with Kersey (worse luck!) who clearly had something in her eye from the way she kept winking at me, one with the dowager Lady Ophelia (two left feet and smelt of dogs) and the third with her omega grandson Gendry (dowdy though tolerable enough) but thankfully that where my obligations ceased. I would not lower myself to step out with any of this country riff-raff, as I told Arthur during a break for fresh air on the balcony. 

Of course young Romeo tried to persuade me otherwise. Sigh.

 _“My_ next dance is with the second of the Blackwater omegas”, he said, far too cheerfully for an alpha undergoing this dreadful ordeal. “You were wrong about that picture doing him too much justice; he is most handsome.”

“What is the future Laird of Netherfield's name, then?” I asked, sipping some decidedly indifferent wine. He swatted at me.

“Edmund. That is him over there.”

I followed my friend's eye-line to where a young dark-haired omega was dancing with a heavy-set beta who was in no danger of dying from hunger any time this decade. Mr. Edmund Blackwater was in his early twenties, about five foot tall so below average height¹, and had his hair done up in a ponytail which I suppose must have been considered 'fashionable' in these parts. He was not _that_ bad looking, I conceded, and at least he was a good dancer as he was skilfully avoiding his clod-hopping partner’s less than graceful moves. Though something about him suggested that he, like me, did not want to be here, so unlikely as it was we did share something in common.

“He will make you look even taller!” I scoffed. At a shade over six foot so well above the average height, Arthur had nearly twelve inches on the fellow.

“I do not care!” he said testily as the music slowed to indicate that the current round was coming to a close. “I am going to talk to him now. At least _one_ of us should be dancing!”

I sighed as he moved elegantly across the floor (those deportment lessons had worked) to introduce himself to Mr. Edmund Blackwater. The omega looked at him reverently and I could picture him thinking, _‘hello, five thousand!’_ Not if I had anything to do with it! Arthur might be of age now but I was still his protector, whether he liked it or not.

As if my cup of woes was not full, enough the Wicked Witch herself then sidled over to me. The woman was as persistent as a rash and about as welcome. Normally at events like these she would have had a companion to distract her but, Arthur had told me earlier, word of her awfulness had gotten round all the agencies and apparently none of them were _that_ desperate for business. 

“The Blackwaters are supposedly one of the principal families in the area”, she sniffed disdainfully. _“Five_ sons yet every one an omega. That is so unlucky!”

I knew why this was thanks to Mrs. Wellow, but could not of course say as much. Nor did I wish to as it would only prolong the conversation, as well as her baleful presence.

“The estate is fully entailed”, she said, sipping her wine and making a disgusted face before putting it down. “And since Mrs. Blackwater is too old to have any more children, that means when her husband dies she and her brood are out. It all goes to Mr. Blackwater’s nephew, a priest or something. Little wonder she is so eager to get them all married off!”

I smiled but said nothing, instead looking across to where Mr. Edmund Blackwater and Arthur were dancing, my friend clearly pleased with his choice. The omega also looked happy, and dancing with someone worth five thousand a year he well might. Not going to happen.

“Are the rest of the family here?” I asked.

“All except old Mr. Blackwater; he 'doesn't do evenings out'”, she said. “A good thing I got old Lady Barras to point them out to me; I would not have thought they were related otherwise. Mrs. Blackwater is that silly-looking woman on the chaise, the one in the green horror. The woman in the pink mistake that she is talking at is Mrs. Mallister, her sister, and the man in the cheap suit standing behind them is Mr. Mallister. Raedwald; such an odd name for someone like _him!”_

I observed with surprise that 'him' was black but did not comment on it. It was decades since slavery had been outlawed in England² and earlier this year the ghastly slave trade itself had finally been abolished. I wondered what sort of reception someone like Mr. Mallister had received in this bucolic area.

“The son of a freed slave”, Kersey sneered. “They let anyone into society nowadays!”

Even the likes of you, I thought not at all cattily.

“The dowdy one reading in the corner is the middle son, Marcus”, she sniffed disdainfully. “I was told he was the most accomplished omega in all the county, and also arguably the most boring one in all of England. The idiots over there are the younger Blackwaters, Oliver and Robert. Should not have even been presented yet as neither is anywhere near twenty-one. And flirting like that; they should know better!”

I bit back the obvious remark about motes and beams. It took an effort.

“Now where is the eldest brat; someone did point him out to me earlier and I laughed because he is so hideous! Oh yes there it is, sitting on the outs bench. Bronn, I think he is called. What a face; he would need your ten thousand and more for anyone to take on _those_ looks!”

I looked across and saw an absurdly tall omega with untidy dark blond hair and a thoughtful look on his face as he watched Arthur and his brother dance. Kersey was perhaps only slightly overstating his plainness but as well as his unconscionable height he was also surprisingly muscled. 

“They _are_ a mixed bunch”, I smiled. “If that is the best that this area has to offer, then I pity its alphas!”

It was rather bad luck that every single person in the room managed to strike a pause in their conversation just before I spoke those words rather more loudly than I had intended. Several frowns were sent in my direction and even though there was no reaction I knew that the fellow across the room must have heard me. Still, he was only a socially inferior omega (if an oversized one) so what did that matter?

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Three hours later I was both bored and uneasy. Bored by indifferent music, indifferent company, and beyond indifferent food and wine. And uneasy because Arthur was now on his _fifth_ dance with Mr. Edmund Blackwater and the two seemed to be getting on far too well, to the visible _chagrin_ of parents of other potential partners and (inevitably) the displeasure of Kersey. Either that or the stays in her vomit-green excuse for a dress were too tight.

Proof that things could get even worse came when the ball's host Lord Robert Barras, a bluff and ferociously bearded beta in his late forties, tried to engage me in conversation. I was sure that the fellow was going to suggest a second dance with his son Gendry, but instead he looked behind us to the outs bench.

“Surely you must dance again, Mr. Lannister!” he said teasingly. “I see there is someone unattached who would willingly step out with you.”

I turned and saw Mr. Bronn Blackwater looking down at his dance card, frowning as if it held the mysteries of life. As if I would ever be _that_ desperate!

“Really?” I said dryly. “I do not see anyone attractive enough to tempt _me.”_

And that was the moment when the omega looked straight at me for the first time, and I was hit by the full force of a pair of startlingly blue eyes. They looked me up and down in far too bold a manner for someone of such poor social standing, and from the look of disdain on that craggy face he was for some inexplicable reason not impressed. How _dare_ he? This fellow's brother might be set on ensnaring Arthur but he himself was looking at Jaime Lannister master of Pemberley, a gentleman worth ten thousand a year, as if I was of no consequence! For the first time in my life I felt _slighted!_

The world righted itself on its axis as Lord Barras and the insufferable omega both wandered off, leaving me to collect myself. Seeing Kersey back on the prowl I decided to take some fresh air and avoid her. It was a complete coincidence that Mr. Bronn Blackwater had also gone outside. 

My conscience had better not even get started!

The gardens of Barras Lodge were I supposed attractive and well laid out but I was too busy not looking for anyone in particular to really notice. I finally found the omega sitting in a small Indian-style summer-house (ridiculous for Hertfordshire!) looking up at the nearly full moon and clearly ignoring me despite my shuffling my boots on the stones and coughing twice as I approached. Irked, I determined to find out just why he had been so damnably rude to his social betters.

“Would you dance with me, sir?”

I baulked. Somewhere between my brain and my mouth, a demand for social recognition had been altered without my permission. The blue-eyed omega, almost as tall as I, stood and looked at me far too appraisingly (again!) then, incredibly, shook his head!

“Like you sir, I only do my duty dances”, he said in a surprisingly deep voice for an omega. “I have never yet found anyone worth dancing with merely for _pleasure.”_

He was refusing _me?_ I was deeply offended!

“You have to dance with me!” I said not at all petulantly. “I have asked you!”

Another look. For some reason I felt a sudden sense of danger, which was of course utterly ridiculous. This was after all only an omega.

“You really are far too used to getting your own way, alpha”, he said in a brazenly disapproving tone. “Excuse me.”

He made to walk past me and I seethed at his curt dismissal. I seized him by the wrist meaning to demand an explanation for his shameful treatment but the next moment I found myself pinned against one of the pillars. Worse, there was a poniard that had appeared from nowhere and was now at my throat. What the hell?

“Bad alpha!"

I uttered something that an uncharitable observer may, in a moment of malice, have classified as close to a whine whereas it was in reality a short and high-pitched cough. I was just thinking that this could not possibly be worse when the omega's leg brushed against King James who, showing a terrible sense of timing, promptly decided to wake up and join the party. The insufferable omega chuckled.

“Keep your body parts to yourself in future, alpha!” he growled. _“Or you may lose them!”_

Then he was gone, striding away back to the dreadful ball. I stared after him in amazement. No-one had ever... well, no-one had ever!

I looked downwards. And how the blazes could I go back to the dance at full mast? Insufferable omega!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

It was late when our carriage reached Netherfield and we all headed for our respective bed-chambers. I was unusually silent as Carlton (my valet) helped undress me and decided to try to read my book for a few minutes while the warming-pan was doing its work. But I found myself unable to concentrate, my mind always wandering back to the way that that omega had manhandled me. It was shocking that someone so socially inferior had dared to.... and now I was getting hard again, damnation!

I had not wanted to go to the damn ball and had known that I would not enjoy myself there. It was bad enough that Arthur seemed far too taken with Mr. Edmund Blackwater, an omega not only of social inferiority but also with a family that were without exception utterly appalling. The antics of his two youngest brothers as the evening had progressed had been bordering on lewd, the middle brother Marcus had been as boring as Kersey had claimed, and both their mother and aunt were just plain harridans who should have come with free earplugs for anyone in their vicinity. And that dreadful Mr. Bronn Blackwater had not only refused to dance with me but had then overp..... dared to stand up against his social better in a way that no omega should have even considered doing. Thank the Lord that no-one had seen us! I would be having a serious talk with Arthur about making better choices in his romantic attachments.

A maid came and removed the warming-pan and I sighed before getting into the warm bed. Perhaps I could persuade Arthur to meet someone else in the neighbourhood in the next few days, someone eminently more suitable or at least less unsuitable. Someone whose brother would Know His Place In Society and not treat his social superiors in such a way and.... damnation I was hard again!

Oh well. Waste not want not.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

_Notes:_  
 _1: The average height for a man around this time was five foot five, although that would slowly increase thereafter due to both the end of the Little Ice Age and improved diets. Alphas were on average four inches taller than this and omegas four inches shorter, so at five foot one Edmund Blackwater was in fact exactly the average height for an omega. Bronn, at six foot, was a full eleven inches above average – and as Jaime Lannister (at six foot two some five inches taller than the alpha average) would later find out, extra inches were important!_  
 _2: The famous Somersett Case of 1772 had led to slavery being banned in England and Wales (Scotland followed suit after a similar case in 1778) but not in the Empire, and historians still debate just how far the decision really took things. It definitely helped push Abolitionism forward._


	3. Soldier Soldier

**October 1807**

I found myself observing Mr. Bronn Blackwater with increasing frequency over the subsequent few weeks. This was, it goes without saying, solely because I was being such a good friend to Arthur and giving up my precious time to learn about the grasping family trying to attach itself to him. Yes. That was it.

My conscience had now resorted to Pointed Silences. 

One thing that did surprise me concerned The Wicked Witch Of The North, who very clearly expected to become 'friends' with both the elder Blackwaters (as much as anyone could befriend someone like her). But although Edmund seemed to accept her overtures, his brother remained cool to her efforts and very clearly (if politely) preferred to spend his time with his friend and fellow omega Gendry Barras. I suppose perhaps even Mr. Bronn Blackwater had to draw the line somewhere.

Solely to help Arthur I observed the eldest Blackwater omega even more closely. Unfortunately it was not long before my efforts were noticed.

“Mr. Lannister”, Mr. Gendry Barras said, suddenly turning to me as I just happened to pass behind their couch at Barras Lodge for what was not the fourth time that evening, “do you think that my friend is right when he says love is more important than marriage?”

I blushed for some reason.

“I have not yet found someone to love”, I said flatly, looking anywhere but at Mr. Blackwater, “so I am probably not best fitted to answer that question.”

“I was merely saying that a successful marriage cannot be without love”, Mr. Blackwater said patiently. “There are many people who enter marriage for all sorts of reasons – usually of a financial persuasion - and make the best of things, but true happiness needs love to allow it to flourish.”

His voice was far too deep, I thought. I could just imagine that gravelly voice growling out my name as I..... damnation he was beneath me both socially and aesthetically. And that part of me that was suggesting another way he might be beneath me could shut up too!

“And how would you know someone capable of true love?” I said a little too quickly, in an effort to get my mind out of the gutter. I was somewhat glad that the sofa that the two omegas were sat on had a high back. Because.

The omega looked at me, and I was sure that there was the briefest glance downwards. I blushed even more. He could not know... could he?

“Love is much more than just _physical_ attraction”, he said with an annoying smile. “It is sad that so few omegas can marry whom they wish, and have to settle for someone on the grounds of their financial holdings rather than whether there is anything of romantic substance involved.”

I looked across to where Arthur and this fellow's brother were talking. I was still trying to get the young buck interested in other omegas or women, but I had had no luck so far. The boy had strange tastes lately.

 _”You_ would never marry for money, Mr. Blackwater?” I asked, a little more acidly that I had intended.

The omega's face darkened. I would have backed away but that was not an option just now. And I thought once again of that poniard.

“I would not want to marry _solely_ for money, sir”, he said levelly. “But if there is genuine love then money should not be allowed to stand in the way, whether there is too much or not enough of it!” 

I uttered a silent prayer of thanks that I had worn the looser trousers that day. That voice of his should have come with a warning: May Cause Arousal In Certain Alphas. Like Arthur, King James was showing strange tastes of late.

“And if your mother presented you with someone you did not love, you would still marry them?” I pressed.

“I am a loyal son”, he said, still frowning at me. “I would do my duty, both in and out of the bed-chamber. I would only hope to have as my husband someone who might find even me 'attractive', and who is prepared to accept me for rather more than my looks which, I understand, are by no means enough to 'tempt' _some_ people!” 

Damnation!. An all too obvious reference to the way in which I had slighted the fellow at that damn ball, something I had no reason to feel bad about yet did. I quickly excused myself and did not flee from the room at all. Quite how I almost fell over my own feet, only the Good Lord knows.

I did not eavesdrop on any more of Mr. Bronn Blackwater's conversations.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

**November 1807**

The dinner at Barras Lodge had taken place on All Hallow's Eve and I awoke the following morning from an even more intense dream than usual. Listening to Mr. Bronn Blackwater defend himself in that gravelled growl of his – even when he was using it to put the Earl of Hexhamshire's nephew in his place – was far more arousing than it had any right to be. Thank the Lord that the fellow was a social inferior who had ideas Far Above His Station, and once I had left I need never see him again. All well and good.

Then I remembered Arthur and Edmund, and groaned. I would have to keep a tight eye there or I and Mr. Bronn Blackwater might end up as brothers¹!

I sighed in resignation. Something else was 'up' too. Ah well, I was an alpha after all.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

It was of course All Saints’ Day and the local preacher decided his theme for the sermon should be 'everything comes to he who waits'. I was surprised to see the church so well attended for a midweek service, even for a special day. I had always taken a rather jaundiced view of the Heavenly Father and events later that day would only serve to reinforce that opinion. 

Arthur had suggested a walk to Meryton before returning home to which I had agreed, though I knew this was only because he had overheard Mr. Edmund Blackwater tell his brother (who was wearing far too tight a shirt for someone of his musculature, let alone that damn waist-coat) that he planned to meet someone in town. I therefore accompanied Arthur (who, I noted, was visibly uneasy) with the sole purpose of keeping a close watch on what was developing between him and the omega. And definitely not because I knew that Mr. Bronn Blackwater was going to be there as well. 

My conscience was somehow rolling its eyes at me!

We walked slowly down the High Street, Arthur pretending to be fascinated by the shop windows whilst very obviously looking out for a certain set of brown eyes. I of course was calmness personified and not looking out for anyone, least of all an overly tall blue-eyed blond omega. After a time we saw our qua.... the Blackwater brothers standing outside the haberdashers talking to two soldiers, betas from the size of them. I recalled that a militia unit had recently been stationed just outside the town², presumably on leave from the endless war with Revolutionary France. There was something vaguely familiar about one of the soldiers but I could not quite put my finger on it.... 

The fellow in question turned round and I gasped in shock. Darius Wickham! The rogue who had so nearly seduced poor Tyrion, bold as brass³ right here in Meryton and talking to Mr. Bronn Blackwater of all people! And judging from the equally shocked look on the villain's face he recognized me, though he quickly stilled his features and turned back to resume his conversation. Unfortunately his interlocutor had clearly spotted both reactions judging from the puzzled look on his face.

So good things did happen, eh? _When?_

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Arthur, being the good egg he was at times like these, waited until we had left the town and were walking back towards Netherfield before he said anything.

“That soldier. You know him?”

I sighed.

“Remember that trouble I had over Tyrion a few years back, when the son of my father's late steward tried to elope with him to get at his inheritance?”

Arthur paled.

 _“Him?_ Oh Jaime! I am so sorry!” 

He thought for a moment then continued. 

“I did issue a general invitation to the officers for the ball, but if you are unhappy....”

“Lieutenant Wickham will not attend”, I said coldly. “And if he does I shall control myself. Somehow.”

Arthur looked at me uncertainly but did not press the matter any further, for which I was grateful. He was a good fellow despite his romantic failings.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Two days later I decided to walk down to Meryton, so offered to accompany Arthur as far as Longbourn and yet another call on the Blackwaters (sigh). I did not go into the house myself but parted from my lovelorn idiot of a friend at the gate. 

I should have known that I could not catch a break. I was about to continue when Mr. Bronn Blackwater came down the road, clearly returning from one of his strange run things which he did almost every day (I may or may not have made inquiries). The autumn wind had whipped colour into his cheeks and made his unruly hair look even worse than normal. I was struck by a sudden urge to run my fingers through it to see if it was as soft as it looked....

“Mr. Lannister.”

That gravelled voice again and yes, once again things were 'looking up'. Why did this annoying omega always have this effect on me?

“Mr. Blackwater”, I said, bowing in return.

The omega looked at me coolly then passed me and went into the house. I stood there for some little while before I realized that anyone in the house could see my clueless dithering, and hastened on my way.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

“Lieutenant Wickham has been telling everyone about how you 'cheated' him out of his rightful inheritance”, Arthur said a few days later when we were in the reading-room. “Perhaps it might be better if you put your side of the story into general circulation?”

“To what end?” I asked with a harsh laugh. “The whole county thinks me beyond salvation solely because I am not as sociable as you. No, Adey. If these people are stupid enough to fall for a silver-tongued trickster like Darius Wickham then they deserve to remain in ignorance! They will find him out soon enough when he disappears and leaves the usual ton of unpaid bills.”

Arthur looked dubious but dropped the subject, and soon after went off to write a letter. I found myself wondering if Mr. Bronn Blackwater had been taken in by the rogue like everyone else but consoled myself with the thought that that particular omega's opinion of me could not be much lower than it already was. Not that it mattered of course. Let him and all these country bumpkins believe what they liked. I, Mr. Jaime Lannister master of Pemberley and worth some ten thousand a year, frankly did not give a damn!

I could not know then just how badly that particular decision was going to come back and bite me in the not too distant future.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

_Notes:_  
 _1: Jane Austen used 'brother' rather than 'brother-in-law'. The latter was in and out of fashion over the years; in the time of Shakespeare two centuries before it had been quite common._  
 _2: After the many wars of the eighteenth century the militia had evolved into a voluntary army, fairly well-trained and useful as back-up. That they persisted as long as they did was due to memories of the Civil Wars and the first ever professional army's role in it. The reforms of King George III's second son Frederick (the Grand Old) Duke of York were beginning to take effect, but barracks for the militia in particular were still some way off especially given the explosion in the size of the Army during the long wars with France._  
 _3: Then a new phrase in the English language, it derived from London mayor Brass Crosby (1725-1793) standing up to parliament and protecting a fellow who had actually dared to publish details of a debate in the Commons. I mean, letting the plebs find out what their elected representatives were up to? How totally unacceptable!_


	4. Weather Or Not

**November 1807**

I did not have to wait long to find out exactly what Mr. Blackwater thought of the vile Wickham, and it was a kind act on my part which showed me. Well, part kindness and part self-preservation.

Kersey had mentioned the previous evening that she was looking at buying a new carriage and wanted me to come with her the next day 'to help her choose'. The thought of being alone with the ghastly woman for any length of time had horrified me, but fortunately salvation had arrived when Mrs. Wellow had said that she needed a couple of extra items from the grocery store in the village and could someone be sent? Ever eager to oblige (and to avoid The Wicked Witch Of The North) I volunteered. Because I was good like that.

My conscience could shut up straight away!

The door into the village shop had one of those bells above it, but one which was clearly misplaced as it did not ring when I entered. The place seemed utterly unwelcoming, which I suppose matched the local people quite well. I was about to traverse the Stygian gloom and approach the counter when I heard voices, and recognized one as Mrs. Mallister, horrendous sister to the equally horrendous Mrs. Blackwater.

“So it seems that Mr. Lannister's late father promised a living worth a full _five thousand_ for dear Wickham because the lieutenant's father had been such a faithful steward. And then once both men are dead, that ghastly Mr. Lannister cheated Lieutenant Wickham and kept it for himself. Disgraceful, I call it!”

That Wickham had lied about that did not surprise me in the least, as well as exaggerating the amount of his 'loss'. The living at Kympton which he had been promised had been worth a little under two thousand, and when he had expressed a desire not to become a clergyman (clearly the Good Lord had good taste!) I had paid him full three thousand on condition he legally waive all claims to it. Naturally he had blown through that it little more than a year, after which..... the Tyrion thing. I was angered that, despite knowing how credible Wickham could be, these foolish people had chosen to believe him. Well, they could remain in their ignorance, duped by that villainous....

A familiar growl came in response to Mrs. Mallister, and King James rose up as if on a string. I stared down incredulously. _Seriously?_

“Who told you that, aunt?” 

Mr. Bronn Blackwater, damnation! And I was wearing the tight trousers!

“Your dear mama, after the lieutenant chanced to meet her in town last week”, came Mrs. Mallister's voice.

“A 'chance' encounter indeed”, the omega snarked. “So you only have Lieutenant Wickham's version of what happened?”

From the gloom I could just make out the shop owner, an elderly female called Miss Miller who I had observed always decided to go for volume rather than quality in her make-up (a paper bag would have been both better and cheaper). She was clearly shocked that a mere omega had spoken in such a tone, or perhaps she just looked like she needed the bathroom urgently.

“Are you saying that Lieutenant Wickham lied?” came a male voice that I recognized as Mr. Mallister. He had a slight wheeze after certain words and I pitied him for his choice of wife, although I supposed that was why they had invented earplugs. His nephew huffed a laugh.

“I have heard a lot about Lieutenant Wickham who, I might add, has not been to our house once since he found out there were no rich heiresses therein”, he said sharply. “I doubt that much he has said has been an open lie, but I am certain that we have not heard the whole truth.”

Everyone continued to stare at Mr. Blackwater, clearly surprised at this burst of omega assertiveness. I was quite close to them by now, unaware that I had been slowly edging forward all the time.

“You would believe that obnoxious Mr. Lannister over dear Wickham!” Mrs. Mallister said incredulously. “After the way he treated _you_ at the dance?”

Mr. Blackwater's face expressed annoyance at her remark. I could relate to him in that at least; gossip was the currency of bucolic areas like this.

“All I am saying is that we should not believe _everything_ that Lieutenant Wickham says”, he said firmly. He fixed his aunt with a hard look. _“Everyone_ deserves the chance to be accepted into society, aunt.”

That, I knew from Mrs. Wellow, was a sharp reference to his uncle and his initial cool reception by the people of the village before their eventually coming to accept and later value him. The wretched woman reddened and was clearly about to respond when I coughed to announce my presence.

Three rather red faces ensued, and Miss Miller suddenly had urgent business requiring her attention out the back.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I had if truth be told been shocked by the encounter. That Mr. Bronn Blackwater of all people would defend me – especially after our arguably less than successful encounters – was incredible. I knew from experience how credible Wickham could be and yet apparently there was at least one person who could see through the villain. And the way in which the omega had blushed when he had realized that I had overheard his spirited defence, well, it was....

I changed into the looser trousers before going out again.

To distract myself I focussed my attentions fully on Arthur. The young dolt was in love with the second Blackwater omega, that much was plain. But the latter’s own feelings were much harder to gauge; indeed sometimes I suspected that Kersey might be – ugh, I had to say it - correct, and Mr. Edmund Blackwater did not really care for my friend. Possibly he was being forced into the relationship by his mother as he seemed strangely nervous at times. She was certainly after that five thousand and I was damned if I was going to stand back and allow that to happen.

Except that this particular day Arthur invited her son over and the young idiot was caught in a sudden downpour, arriving looking like a drowned rat and coughing badly. I would have laughed but Arthur gave me such a look – he did have a temper if a rarely seen one - that I refrained. He hustled the omega upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms and insisted on sending for a doctor. When he came down some time later he looked unusually grave.

“Pneumonia, perhaps something worse”, he said, looking sadder than I had ever seen him. “He keeps asking for his elder brother.”

I winced. Surely he would not.....

“I shall go and fetch him”, he said much to my relief. “I know that you and he do not exactly get on, Jaime.”

Indeed, the thought of a long drive with those blue eyes and impossible muscles for company worried me more than I would have cared to admit. But I was anxious for my friend. Arthur was getting in too deep.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Arthur insisted that Mr. Bronn Blackwater stay at Netherfield until his brother got better, which I initially thought would mean having the absurdly tall omega around all the time. The prospect unnerved me for some inexplicable reason. As it turned out however our second visitor spent the next few days almost constantly in his brother's room and I did not see him downstairs but once. That also unnerved me.

“I am worried about Eddie”, Arthur said the following morning.

We were in the library. The doctor had just finished examining the ill omega and his brother had I presumed gone out for some fresh air. 

“The illness?” I asked, noting but not commenting on the fact that it was now 'Eddie' rather than Edmund. He shook his head.

“I think he is hiding something from me”, he said. “He was really open that first time we met and everything seemed to be going so well. But ever since he has been…. almost nervous. It is strange.”

I thought about suggesting that possibly the younger Blackwater did not feel for Arthur what my young friend obviously felt for him but I guessed that saying that might not go down too well just now. 

“Maybe he is not that easy to get to know”, I suggested instead. “The Blackwaters might be more complicated than we think.”

“Mr. Robert Barras' son Geoffrey tried to tell me something about his past one time”, Arthur said. “He got as far as 'something you should know about that family' before I shot him down.”

“Why did you not let him tell you?” I asked.

“Because he was only doing it through spite”, Arthur said sharply, “and I disapprove of malicious rumour-mongering on principle!”

I was working to hold back a comment about Kersey there when there was a cough from nearby. Mr. Bronn Blackwater's unmistakable tousled head was leaning round one of the high-backed chairs by the fireplace. I hoped that I did not go as red as Arthur, but I probably had.

“I am sorry to intrude, Mr. Dayne....” he began.

“That is quite all right”, Arthur smiled, although I could sense he too was unsettled at our having been overheard. “I did say you could use the library any time you liked. Did the doctor report to you before leaving as I asked?”

“Yes thank you”, Mr. Blackwater said. “I stayed with Edmund throughout the examination; he.... he does not like being alone with unknown gentlemen, even a doctor. He said that he wanted a rest so I decided to come and choose a book.”

“Of course”, Arthur said. “You can read it here or take it back to your room; whatever is easiest for you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I observed that despite his plain features the omega looked almost presentable when he smiled. I wondered what he would have to do to earn such a look. 

Maybe stop insulting him at public events for one thing, a small voice at the back of my mind unhelpfully supplied. My conscience seemed much more active of late for some reason.

A servant came with a message for Arthur and he left the room. I saw with alarm that Kersey had finished her magazine and was heading towards me, and decided that the omega might be the better (or at least less worse) option.

 _“'Pilgrim’s Progress'”_ , I observed tilting my head to catch the title of the book he was reading. 

“Indeed”, Mr. Blackwater said in his bass tone. “The story of a man who finds in his faith the one thing he truly values above all else.”

“Are you so religious, Mr. Blackwater?” I asked, leaning against a sideboard. “Not everyone is these days.”

“Being threatened with losing something as precious as the brother I value the most tends to make one religious”, he said. 

“You have a most unusual name”, Kersey said butting into the conversation without being asked (as if I was surprised at that). 

“My father had a friend in the army, a Captain Byron Trago”, the omega explained. “I was named after him and he became my godfather; sadly he was killed on service.”

Kersey immediately looked bored at the mention of the military and excused herself to the ladies' room. I frowned. Trago. That name was familiar from somewhere. 

“Was he related to Lieutenant Arras Trago?” I asked at last. “My cousin Edwy, the earl's youngest son, mentioned that name to me one time.....”

I stopped dead. The sudden look of fury on the omega's face made my blood run cold, and I involuntarily remembered that poniard.. The fellow's anger was however quickly masked and he stood up.

“I think that I shall go and see if my brother has awoken”, he said, still looking enraged for some reason. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lannister.”

He left hurriedly. I stared after him, perplexed. What was all that about?

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

For the remaining six days of Mr. Edmund Blackwater’s illness, which turned out to be a rare form of pneumonia, his elder brother spent virtually all his time caring for him. Arthur had given him the room next door and often personally took up food and books for both of them. Despite that I could not shake the feeling that the elder Blackwater was deliberately ignoring me. That was annoying especially since..... damnation!

It would have taken more denial than even I stood possessed of to have ignored the feelings that I was developing towards Mr. Bronn Blackwater. The omega was plain bordering on ugly and, to me, oftentimes uncivil to his social betters, yet there was something about him that piqued my interest (and certainly 'piqued' King James' whose timing had not improved one iota; I should have packed more pairs of the looser trousers!). It was not just the absurd height, the solid muscles, the impossibly blue eyes or the permanently messy blond hair, there was an attitude about him that made it clear he would not be the typical omega in any relationship he entertained. I so wanted to see that attitude when said omega was writhing under me and.... well, I was an alpha after all. 

When the Blackwater brothers finally left Netherfield I only had one eye on Arthur. The lovebirds would be apart for just three days until the forthcoming ball, but the way my friend talked to Mr. Edmund Blackwater I would have thought they were parting for three years. I had my other eye very firmly on his brother, who looked almost apprehensive as he watched the two say their farewells. That was odd; surely he would be happy for his brother?

Arthur sighed after the carriage had finally passed from view and went slowly back inside. I watched him thoughtfully, increasingly concerned that my friend was falling in love with an omega from a totally unsuitable family. Thank the Lord that would never befall someone like _me!_

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

My dreams that night were nobody's business but my own, thank you very much. 

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	5. Divide And Depart

**November 1807**

Kersey had been pestering me over Arthur's ever closer relationship with Mr. Edmund Blackwater and, much as I disliked it (and her), I had to very reluctantly admit that she had a point. For once. The family was totally unsuitable for such a match, especially to gentlemen of our.... of Arthur's social standing.

I also had reason to again curse the local gossip network, for when I took advantage of The Wicked Witch taking a rare walk (she had a new dress that she wanted to show off) and went down to talk with Mrs. Wellow, she had some news that, for some strange reason, she thought might be of interest to me.

“The Reverend Blackwater-Strickland is paying a visit to his uncle, Mr. Blackwater”, she said as she rolled out a large slab of pastry.

“I suppose that he is keeping an eye on his future inheritance”, I smiled. “I do not know the fellow except that he is my great-aunt's pastor for his sins, but I am sure that he would do right by his own relatives if the worst happens. He is a man of the cloth after all.”

She looked at me speculatively. I fidgeted for no reason at all.

“They do say that Mrs. Blackwater has hopes for one of her boys to marry him and maintain the house in the family”, she said. “That would have to be either Mr. Bronn or Mr. Edmund.”

I caught her meaning at once. If Mrs. Blackwater thought that Edmund was destined for my friend, then that left..... absolutely no way!

For some reason I found myself breathing rather rapidly. The housekeeper smiled far too knowingly.

“It would be an interesting match”, she said. “The reverend is a good fellow, although I do wonder if his attentions may be elsewhere in these parts.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, not at all hopefully.

“Lord Robert arranged for him to come down a few months ago without informing Mr. Blackwater”, she said. “The reverend _claimed_ that this was just to look over things properly which I _suppose_ is a reason, but.... well, I just wondered.”

I frowned. No way was some meddling vicar having...... well, he was just not. Mr. Bronn Blackwater was very outspoken and would surely protest against being married off to some middle-aged bore who preached all the time, alpha or not.

He _would_ protest. Would he not?

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

The day of the ball came round far too quickly for my liking and I wondered what the alpha vicar would be like. I did not have to wait long, for the Blackwater party was there before us and Arthur, predictably, headed straight for them.

Damnation! Far from the pompous overweight balding figure I had expected or just possibly hoped for, Harry Blackwater-Strickland was not only all alpha but moderately well turned out and arguably good-looking in a certain light (definitely not, as some ghastly female in our party commented, 'an arse I would like to bounce a shilling off'). He was at least thirty years of age and clearly on good terms with Mr. Bronn Blackwater, as the two soon headed outside for some fresh air. That seemed a good idea and I decided to get some air too. 

My conscience had now taken to sniggering at me!

I chanced to find them just in time to see Mr. Blackwater kissing his cousin's hand and saying 'to the next dance'. I may or may not have entertained some decidedly unchristian thoughts at that point. And it was a cough, not a growl.

I observed the annoying cleric closely all evening. He danced three dances each with Mr. Bronn Blackwater and his friend Mr. Gendry Barras; I supposed that a man of the cloth dancing with unmated omegas was just about acceptable in these bucolic parts. He did not favour anyone else with any particular attentions, and I found the general opinion of him to be strangely positive given his poor means and only tolerable appearance. I suppose people considered that his connection to my illustrious family through my great-aunt made up for his other failings.

After their third dance together I saw Mr. Blackwater stepping outside again, alone this time, and finding myself again in need of more fresh air stepped out too. It took me nearly two minutes to find him.

“Mr. Blackwater, you are very elusive”, I said not at all plaintively. 

“Not really”, he said dryly. “I am not one for social occasions such as these, sir.”

“I saw you talking with your cousin earlier”, I pointed out. “And you danced with him. Three times.”

An uncharitable person might have rated my perfectly astute observations as bordering on jealousy. Which of course they were not. 

“My cousin has come all the way from Kent to see us”, the omega countered. “Dancing with him was the least that I could do.”

I really wanted to challenge him over his kissing his cousin's hand, which was an act far too intimate for a familial relation, but I could not think of a way to work it into our conversation. 

“Would you accept me as your partner for the next dance?” I said.

“I do not enjoy dancing, Mr. Lannister”, he smiled. “It is, as I believe someone once said, ‘merely a lot of country riff-raff falling over each other’.”

Damnation! He had overheard me that time on the balcony.

“But you do dance”, I objected.

“Mr. Blackwater?”

We both turned, and I may or may not have thought a Bad Word. It was the oleaginous Mr. Robert Stark, in a most unfortunate grey suit and yellow shirt that I could only assume someone had compelled him to wear after a lost wager.

“I am afraid that I have already pledged my next dance to Mr. Stark”, Mr. Blackwater smiled, allowing the beta to take his hand and lead him out. 

I became aware that I was actually growling as they went off. What was I turning in to?

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

**December 1807**

I had arrived back from the ghastly ball determined that my time in Hertfordshire should be concluded as swiftly as possible. And that Arthur should be removed from the Blackwaters, since I was increasingly of the opinion that Mr. Edmund Blackwater was only after him for his five thousand. Much as it pained me to admit it, Kersey was actually right for once.

Miracles _do_ happen!

Talking Arthur round proved surprisingly difficult, but in the end we got him to agree to accompany us to London and thence back to Derbyshire. Our presence in the area would soon be forgotten and the only problem was that someone would have to return to sign certain papers about the renting of this place as he still had some time to go on his tenancy agreement. I promised to sort that for my friend, who still looked uncertain even as we packed.

The only bad moment came when I spoke to Mrs. Wellow about our sudden departure, and she gave me a most curious look. I do not know why; I was only doing this for my friend's benefit.

My conscience was shaking its head at me for some reason.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I might have known that I would not catch a break. We departed early in the morning and took the road through Meryton rather than Longbourn. That should have rendered our departure unnoticed, but as we approached the town I saw someone running down a side-road towards it, and we were just close enough for me to recognize the fellow.

It was Mr. Bronn Blackwater.

“What is it, Jaime?” Arthur asked as we bowled away from the omega. “You look as if you have seen a ghost!”

I smiled at his poor jest.

“Just thinking about London”, I lied. “I have a lot to do there.”

Starting with putting a certain omega well behind me, I thought firmly.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	6. Capital Affairs

**December 1807**

London was what it always was and likely always would be, a busy mess of a city. The Wicked Witch Of The North was off to shows or events almost every day but I, apart from the management of my financial interests, found myself unusually bored. And worried.

I had fully expected Arthur, who fell in and out of love like Kersey fell in and out of alpha's beds, to have quickly gotten over Mr. Edmund Blackwater. But instead my friend seemed to be getting more miserable with each passing day. He never wanted to go out and just sat reading in the library most of the time, or looking out of the window with a wistful look on his face. No matter how many times I told myself it was all for his own good, it hurt me to see him like this. 

Fortuitously a letter arrived from his uncle a week after our arrival in the capital. Mr. Hezekiah St. George had married Arthur's Aunt Patricia, and despite his not being a blood relative had remained in touch after her death two years ago. He invited his nephew (and even better, Kersey!) to spend the winter with him in Norfolk and I strongly encouraged my friend to go. I hoped that time would, as the old saying went, prove a good healer. It was important for him to put the events of Hertfordshire far behind him. 

Physician heal thyself, a growly voice whispered from the back of my mind. I ignored it.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

**January 1808**

I generally considered myself a good Christian but there were days when I felt that the Good Lord had it in for me. And today was one of those days!

I had spent most of the day at the Trafalgar Club discussing the latest developments in the war with my fellow members – the situation in the Iberian Peninsula seemed hopeless but at least it was stretching French resources, while common opinion was that the Russians were playing a waiting game despite their supposedly being at war with us – after which I had decided to go to nearby St. Paul's Cathedral before heading home. The place was one of the few areas of London I really liked and I sat quietly in one of the pews, thinking over recent events. Finally I edged myself out, turned to walk down the aisle – and promptly froze.

A horribly familiar omega was sat praying in a pew just a few rows down, his hair as messy as ever and his figure lit by a dusty beam of light that, oddly, shone though just one of the many windows to their right, making him look almost ethereal. I could not help but gasp, and Mr. Bronn Blackwater immediately looked around for the source of the noise. When he saw me his face darkened, and I thought immediately of that poniard. 

No. This was a holy place. I was safe here, or at least I hoped I was. He stood up and made his way out into the aisle. 

“Mr. Lannister.” 

That gravelled growl was now openly hostile. Apparently the Good Lord really did have it in for me. 

“Mr. Blackwater”, I said, bowing. “I did not expect to see you in London.”

The omega glared at me. I had to fight down the urge to make a run for it, and a certain part of my anatomy could _really_ learn some better timing! Thankfully I was holding my long-coat in front of me.

“Edmund and I are visiting our aunt and uncle for a month”, the omega said coldly. “After.... recent events at home they kindly offered to let us stay with them.”

I knew full well what he was alluding to; he must surely have worked out that I was responsible for our sudden departure. I managed to suppress a blush. Sort of suppress.

“Your brother is well?” I asked politely.

“As well as can be expected”, he said acidly. The anger in his words was even worse now, and I did actually take a very small step back.

“Mr. Dayne and our cousin have gone to visit an uncle of his in Norfolk”, I offered, trying for some reason to make conversation. 

It was very obviously the wrong thing to have said. The omega's frown deepened even further. And why was I sweating in so cold a place as this?

“Edmund had no intention of calling at _your_ house, Mr. Lannister”, he said, glaring at me. “He received a particularly cruel letter from Miss Lannister, forwarded to him from home, which made Mr. Dayne's feelings on certain matters crystal clear. Now if you will excuse me I am due to meet with Edmund. He has been through a terrible experience recently which has left him completely drained” (he stared particularly hard at me as he said that) “and he needs my support.”

“I am sorry if I am keeping you from him”, I said. “Good day, Mr. Blackwater.”

“Good day, Mr. Lannister.”

The omega strode off, clearly glad to be away from me. I watched him go, knowing for sure that he utterly hated me. 

I did not know just why that bothered me so much.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

There was, I felt upon reflection, no real reason for me to feel unhappy at my actions. I had saved a friend from an ill-judged union with a grasping family who were very clearly only after his money. Arthur would almost certainly thank me if he knew the full facts.

Then why did you neglect to tell him _all_ your reasons for leaving Hertfordshire, that irritating voice asked from the back of my mind. It now sounded even more like the gravelled growl of a certain omega. Just great!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

This was getting ridiculous.

I had acted like any true friend would, and there was no good reason for me to have to keep telling myself this half a dozen times a day. Just as there was no reason I was now spending almost every day thinking about a pair of hostile blue eyes and that flyaway hair. 

Except it now was not just the days. Mr. Bronn Blackwater was now featuring every night in my dreams, sometimes angry with me and sometimes..... look, I was an alpha and I had _needs_ , damnation! The irritating omega was always on my mind, and even at a ball one evening I found myself disliking an over-eager female because her eyes were not the right shade of blue and she was so fragile, far from the muscular definition of a certain ome...... damnation, now I had to excuse myself again!

I was truly thankful that any relationship with Mr. Bronn Blackwater was quite impossible. I really was.

I _was!_

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

**February 1808**

During the time between my father’s death and my taking on responsibility for Arthur's well-being, I had not only sown rather too many wild oats but had also fallen in with some bad people. That had been one of the darkest times in my life but it had also brought me an acquaintance with Mr. Alexander 'Sandy' Clegane, a Yorkshire merchant who worked in what he euphemistically called the ‘grey areas’ of the law, down among the docks and harbours of the great metropolis. I had been able to repay my fellow alpha’s kindness back in part some years later when he had been falsely accused of murder and I had arranged his defence, even testifying as to his character (that had made the London papers at the time). Sandy always sent me a note every time we were both in the capital; he was often away on his 'business' however so when a huge dark-haired alpha turned up in person at Lannister House one day I knew that it had to be serious.

I had not however counted on it being _that_ serious. I stared at him in shock.

“Please tell me you are joking, Sandy!” I managed at last.

My friend shook his head.

“You spent nearly three of the formative years of your youth sleeping with anyone and everyone, Jaime”, he pointed out gently. “There were bound to be consequences. I have seen the boy and he is the spitting image of you. It is amazing that they kept it secret for this long.”

“Not that amazing”, I said with a sigh. “It is the Greyjoys after all.”

Sandy had just informed me that I had a son, an eight-year-old boy called Theon who was the almost certain result of a short and tempestuous affair that I had had with his mother, Eleanor, not long after my father's death and not long (alright, one week) before she had married Mr. Balan Greyjoy. His family were amongst the most powerful in London, an ancestor having cannily got in with the future George the Second on his arrival from Hanover nearly a century before and their descendants having milked the connection for all it was worth. And I could hardly approach the boy himself without risking a major scandal. 

“And the family back her up in this?” I said angrily running my hand through hair that seriously needed a haircut.

“Not willingly I would judge, but family is important to the Greyjoys”, Sandy said. “I am sorry Jaime, but you had to know.”

“Would they accept money for the boy?” I asked.

“Not a chance. Your best bet is to wait and hope; perhaps in the future things may change. I will keep you informed.”

“Thanks, Sandy.”

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Though I knew I could not approach the boy – _my son_ – directly, I had learned from Sandy that Eleanor owned a small restaurant close to the House of Commons. So I went there one day, not to speak to my former lover but merely to see how she was. 

Eleanor was apparently busy in the kitchens when I arrived so I ordered a coffee and a cake and sat down to eat it. There were familial pictures all round the wall and I only slowly realized that the one by my table was of my son. He was indeed the image of me when younger.

I was still staring at it when I realized someone had approached my table.

“Jaime Lannister!” came a familiar female voice. “Long time no see!”

I turned and smiled as Eleanor sat down opposite me.

“Hullo, Nell.”

“Are you here about Theon?” she demanded at once. She was as sharp as ever.

“No!” I said, a little more forcibly than I had intended. I took a deep breath before continuing. “He is my son and I would do anything you ask of me for him, but he should not have to cope with an extra father suddenly turning up in his life.”

She seemed to calm down a little at that.

“He is out the back talking with a friend of mine”, she said sitting down opposite me. “I am expanding this place and Mr. Smallwood is providing me with the money.”

I frowned. Smallwood; I was sure that name was familiar from somewhere.

“You are not using your own?” I was surprised.

“The Smallwoods are old friends of the family”, she explained. “They have gone off to look at the House with one of their nephews; the other one is helping Theon with his homework.”

“Hullo again, Mr. Lannister.”

That was the precise moment when I became absolutely certain the Good Lord did have it in for me. In spades!

“Hullo Mr. Blackwater”, I ground out, standing up and bowing.

The overly tall omega looked between the two of us and the horrible truth struck me like a phaeton¹ at speed; the omega had come fresh from talking to my son and from the sudden look of understanding in those impossibly blue eyes he had just put two and two together. 

And made four. Damnation!

“I had better get back to Theon”, Eleanor said, standing. “Thank you for helping him, Bronn. I will talk to you later, Jaime.”

“Oh. Right.”

She left. Mr. Bronn Blackwater continued to stare at me.

“You know, do you not?” I said sourly. “So what are you going to do about it? Try to blackmail me?”

The measured look suddenly became a full-on glare and the omega leaned forward sharply. I nearly fell off my chair as I tried to back away from that look. He would not stab me in the middle of a London restaurant. _Would he?_

“We are not all on _your_ level, Mr. Lannister”, the gravelled voice ground out. “A gentleman's past is their own business; I prefer to deal with the present and the future. For young Master Greyjoy's sake I shall not speak of this to anyone. You have my word on that. Good day.”

He strode from the restaurant leaving me speechless. He had been given the perfect weapon to extract revenge on me for wrecking his brother's life yet he had declined it to protect my own son, who he barely knew.

What a man!

I looked down. King James was apparently in 'full' agreement with me. I would be taking some time over my food.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

_Notes:_  
 _1: A carriage with large wheels and a lightly sprung small top. The sort of thing driven far too fast by the boy-racers of the early nineteenth century._


	7. Mate!

**March 1808**

In the normal run of events I would have been back at Pemberley for the start of spring but unfortunately the old place needed major work, and after my last experience of the horrors of the British workman I had decided that I was better off waiting it out in the capital. Hence for once I was almost looking forward to visiting my terrible great-aunt, despite her being one of the few women I knew who unnerved (terrified) me. It was not just her supreme knowledge of her own Consequence, but her determination – no, obsession – with getting me to marry her grand-daughter and heiress Diana. Not that the latter was unattractive, although her mother's choice of her dresses usually ran the gamut from dire to appalling, but she was dull in comparison to a tall muscled omega with blue eyes, impossible hair....

I glanced round to make sure no-one was watching then slapped myself for thinking about _him_. Again!

My great-aunt had been on excellent terms with my grandmother until the latter’s death and had somehow developed a belief that Diana and I were in fact betrothed, a belief she held despite all efforts to persuade her to the contrary. When I did eventually marry someone else I knew that there would be hell to pay. Still, at least I would be away from any further chance meetings with the man of my dreams.... damnation!

I had been thinking that particular thought in the carriage with my cousin as we bowled along towards Rosings. At least I had company; my cousin Captain Edwy Fortescue, the earl's youngest son, had clearly drawn the short straw and been dispatched by his father to suffer alongside me. He was currently reading through some regimental correspondence while I resumed a letter from my great-aunt which had arrived only hours before our departure. Predictably it detailed the ways in which she was doing good for all the people of the village and how terribly ungrateful they were (six interminably long pages!). I nearly gave up but kept on until the end of the letter in case the old bat actually had some real news for once.

For once she had. Oh boy, she most definitely had!

 _'You will of course approve of my choice as to our new parish priest, whom I believe you have already been fortunate enough to meet during your time in the county of Hertfordshire. The Reverend Blackwater-Strickland is handsome, charming and_ most _respectful, although I was more than a little surprised when he returned from his recent trip with a young omega whom he had asked to be his mate. The young these days! The fortunate fellow is, I was told, from one of the principal families of the area, although as it is only Hertfordshire that does not count for much. At least they decided to be married here in Kent so I was able to attend and grant my belated blessing. A marriage is a wonderful thing, nephew.’ _

There was more than a passing hint there even without 'wonderful' having been underlined. Some things did not change.

_‘I believe that you may have met the omega in question during your stay in his inconsequential county, so you will be able to renew any acquaintance you may have made with him. I have agreed that he may have a friend from Hertfordshire to stay with him at the Vicarage; I do not recall the name as it is only another omega. This personage arrived by post two days ago – _post!_ \- but despite that I shall be inviting them all to dinner this evening. Given the irregularity of his marriage proposal I at least find the new Monseigneur Blackwater-Strickland a charming creature, although I must say that his hair always seems to be untidy..... '_

My heart stopped for a moment. That obnoxious Reverend Blackwater-Strickland had actually married his cousin after all? _My_ Bronn? What on earth had the omega been thinking? 

It came to me quickly enough. Mr. Blackwater had spoken of familial duties, and must have thought of his family and the connection, albeit indirect, with my great-aunt. She might be flint-hearted for most things but _never_ blood; she would not for a moment allow anyone remotely connected with her to fall into penury. His family would be set for life.

I also remembered the omega kissing the vicar's hand at the ball, and shuddered. That my..... the fellow had gone and sacrificed himself for his horrible family. It was truly awful!

It was only then that I realized the sheer awfulness of the situation. Mr. Blackwater – no, _Monseigneur Blackwater-Strickland_ \- would be there. Right next door to Rosings and likely round most evenings. I would have to see him almost every day!

My stay in Kent was ruined!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

As our carriage rolled past the gates of Rosings I saw the Reverend Blackwater-Strickland there, waiting to bow to us. Edwy laughed at the face I pulled once we were safely out of sight.

“He is not as bad as you described”, he smiled. “Indeed he looks quite handsome for a cleric, although as you said I am surprised that an alpha should have entered such a profession.”

A horrible thought about the vicar 'entering' a certain omega entered my mind, and refused to leave. Damnation!

“He was I suppose well liked by _some_ people in Hertfordshire”, I conceded. “But there was no accounting for taste in such a bucolic area.”

Edwy looked at me far too shrewdly. He could sense that there was rather more to my dislike (utter loathing) of the fellow, but mercifully he did not push it. Although there was definitely something bordering on a smirk there!

“Tell me who else is going to be there”, he said. “We are only moments away from the full Lady Alcyone Experience, vicars included!”

I sighed.

“Apart from the 'charming' cleric”, I said not at all acidly, “the only one I know for sure is Mr. Bronn Blackwater” (I could not bring myself to use the omega's new title). “He is in his mid-twenties, perhaps a little too open in his manner but passably presentable. I might hazard as to the identity of his visitor but I cannot be sure.”

“Is that all you learned in Hertfordshire?” Edwy scoffed. “For shame, cousin! Were there no handsome omegas of fortune to tempt the master of Pemberley?”

“Not I!” I said, “although my friend Arthur - Mr. Dayne - had a narrow escape with a local omega whose family were quite clearly after his money. Fortunately there was no love involved so I was able to extract him easily enough.”

Even as I said that, I wondered. Arthur's letters from Norfolk were still lacking his usual spirit and he had not mentioned anyone else worthy of his attention, unusual for someone who fell in love as easily as he did. It was over three months now, an aeon for him to not have been romantically attached. I was beginning to fear that I may have underestimated his attachment to Mr. Edmund Blackwater.

“He should be grateful that he has a friend such as you, then”, Edwy observed.

“Yes”, I said. “If only I could get that awful cousin of ours married off and out of our lives, everything would be wonderful. But she has only a relatively small inheritance, not enough for prospective suitors to overlook her sheer awfulness. Although of course there is the Lannister name.”

“Names are important”, he agreed. “We are here, cousin. Let us gird our loins for the battle ahead!”

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

The Fates were at least with me at the start of our ordeal as my great-aunt had been called into the nearby town on a matter that had required her Presence which enabled me to slip down to Mrs. Bridges in the kitchens. Though the food being prepared was all for dinner I was able to charm the lady into allowing me to take one of the smaller pastries back to my room. Even though my great-aunt would have horrified had she found out, we were soon chatting away like old friends.

“You missed a treat the other night sir”, she smiled, spooning out dollops of jam into a tray of pastry cases. “The Reverend came over, and Mr. Bronn actually dared to _disagree_ with Her Ladyship over a question of politics! Brooks said he had to supply two extra-large whiskeys to help her get over the shock!”

I wondered at that 'Mr. Bronn', although I knew the tradition of mated omegas using 'Monseigneur' rather than 'Mr.' had lost favour somewhat during the interminable French wars. And disagreeing with someone as Consequential as my great-aunt sounded very like the omega. Presumably he had felt particularly strongly about the subject under discussion. I wondered if there would be any future chances for him to see the rare (if not unknown) sight of my great-aunt not getting her own way for once.

I thought again that miracles had to happen occasionally.

“And the Reverend is so much better now he is married”, Mrs. Bridges went on. “He used to be all nervous whenever he was out in society but having a mate seems to have calmed him down a lot. I am sure we will soon be hearing the patter of tiny feet.”

I winced at such an image.

“I am very happy for him”, I said insincerely. “Thank you for the delicious pastry, madam.”

I bowed and left, wondering if the visitor was indeed the Reverend's mate's friend from Hertfordshire, Mr. Gendry Barras. I would soon find out as I was almost immediately summonsed to wait on my great-aunt to be told that the Vicarage Party was due over that same evening.

I could not catch a break!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	8. You Married Him?

**March 1808**

The three gentlemen – I had been right; the visitor was Gendry Barras - arrived on time and were immediately shown in to wait on my great-aunt who was wearing a strange mauve dress that seemed at least two decades out of fashion. Although at least it was not as bad as poor Diana, who was sporting a two-tone orange and blue nightmare. Whatever crimes she may or may not have done surely did not merit such a horror.

Introductions began and I was not the least bit annoyed when Mr. Blackwater – as handsome as ever, damnation! - smiled far too easily at Edwy. I coughed for no particular reason, which they both seemed to find amusing. 

“Mr. Lannister, what an unexpected pleasure to meet you again!” the vicar smiled. “And so soon!”

To be honest I did not consider it _that_ much of a pleasure, and I frankly wondered what my...... Mr. Blackwater had seen in the fellow apart from his tolerable looks, acceptable physique, semi-decent clothes and his connection to my great-aunt. But I managed to fake something approaching a smile.

“Indeed, Reverend”, I said. “I understand that I may offer belated congratulations on your recent marriage.”

“Oh yes indeed”, he smiled. “Allow me to present my mate, Monseigneur Blackwater-Strickland.”

To my utter amazement it was Gendry Barras who stepped forward, clearly expecting me to shake his hand. I stared at him incredulously. 

“Oh”, I said eventually in a strangely high voice, before lowering my tone down an octave to normal. “Oh. Er, you. _You_ married him.”

I was not normally this incoherent but the shock and the sudden realization that my..... that Mr. Bronn Blackwater was still available was great indeed. Worse, the elder omega's sparkling blue eyes twinkled with the very obvious realization that he had guessed as to my mistake and was enjoying it far too much for someone of his social status. Bastard!

The Good Lord's debt to me just ratcheted up another notch.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I was still recovering from the shocking revelation that all my assumptions had been wrong when I realized my problems were far from over. Edwy and Mr. Blackwater were getting on far too well for my liking. My cousin, who I supposed could have been considered handsome in some lights and looked moderately presentable in his military uniform, could not of course be serious; I knew that he managed his few finances but poorly and would have to marry money one day, but the two seemed to immediately strike up an easy friendship of which I was not the least bit jealous.

My conscience had just left the room, doubled up with laughter.

I noted that Mr. Blackwater was talking to Edwy and wondered what their topic of conversation was. I would have wandered over to eavesdrop but unhappily my great-aunt demanded my full attentions. I did note one odd thing; Mr. Blackwater was playing the piano (passably well) as they spoke, and at one point he looked across at me for some reason. When he resumed playing he changed to Haydn's 39th Symphony, A Storm At Sea. And he did not look at all happy.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I resolved that during my stay in Kent I should make every effort to steer clear of Mr. Bronn Blackwater. It..... did not quite work out that way.

First there was the annoying easy friendship that the omega struck up with that dolt Edwy which led to the young buck heading down to the Vicarage virtually every day. Even knowing that nothing could ever come of it I felt uneasy without quite knowing (or being prepared to admit) just why.

Then there was Mr. Blackwater himself. Early on I chanced to encounter him out on one of his walks (I had not, as Edwy later claimed, been 'lurking in the Vicarage bushes'!). The omega clearly resented my presence as he told me in no uncertain terms that this was a favourite walk of his, the very clear implication being that I should take myself off elsewhere. Which I did – except that somehow my legs took me back to the same walk and a second encounter with the omega. And a third. And a fourth. I even tried to make conversation with him, although the one time I started to bring up what had happened in Hertfordshire he gave me such a look that I made a swift excuse and left. I did not run away, whatever it looked like.

I did not!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

**April 1808**

Another dinner, and yet again the traitorous Edwy had persuaded Mr. Blackwater to play some music for us (Diana, wearing something that had presumably been a tent in a past existence, had strained her hand, an injury I suspected she was playing up to avoid spending all evening at the piano). I watched and did not scowl as Edwy made light conversation with my.... Mr. Blackwater. 

Finally I managed to slip away from my great-aunt while she was talking at the Reverend and went to join them. The omega smiled politely at me but did not look welcoming as he carried on with his piece.

“Your cousin wishes to disconcert me” he said to Edwy in what was far too playful a manner for a single omega. “He assumes that his magnificent presence will cause me to ruin this beautiful piece.”

“I was actually enjoying it”, I said. “You play well.”

“But not as well as Miss Diana”, the omega observed quietly.

That was true up to a point, although I always felt that the greater skills of people like Diana and, I admit, Kersey led to their always attempting longer and heavier pieces that were tedious to sit through. I glanced across at the tent and turned back just in time to catch the omega in a small smile. He must surely have heard by now of my great-aunt's determination that I marry her grand-daughter, something that was never going to happen. Because.

“You play as you feel”, I said. “People should never try to be what they are not.”

“That certainly applies to _you_ , Mr. Lannister”, the omega said dryly. “I am sure you are _exactly_ what you appear!”

“The Lannister is not a social animal”, said a cousin who was no help whatsoever. “He will not even put himself out to dance unless he considers his partner worthy enough to be considered as the next Lady or Laird of Pemberley.”

“Certainly not with 'country riff-raff'”, Mr. Blackwater agreed.

I blushed. 

“I am not fickle enough to make friends lightly”, I said, not all all petulantly.

“Or at all”, muttered a military personage who was at serious risk of being left behind in Kent. “I suspect that Mr. Arthur Dayne is your only true friend beyond blood family.”

I opened my mouth to deny that, then scowled. He was right, damn him!

“Perhaps Mr. Blackwater might consider himself my friend, then?” I tried.

The omega abruptly stopped playing and looked hard at me. I thought again of that poniard and shuddered. If I ever provoked him where we were not being observed.....

“I do not think that would be wise”, he said.

I was about to ask why when my great-aunt, presumably tired of not being the centre of attention for more than two minutes, interrupted our conversation by demanding to know what we were discussing. Mr. Blackwater at once resumed playing and I resumed watching him. He really was beau...... moderately good-looking. 

I sighed. I was in so much trouble. 

Unfortunately it was even more than I suspected.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	9. The L-word

**April 1808**

Damnation, that conniving cousin of mine was talking to Mr. Blackwater _again!_ I brooded (it was so not a sulk) from across the room and watched the two of them in what was far too intimate a conversation for a single alpha and an unattached omega. Then Edwy leaned in and Mr. Blackwater laughed softly before smiling that special smile of his. Why did he never smile at _me_ like that?

Oh yes. He..... was not overly fond of me.

Fortunately for what little remained of my peace of mind, Mr. Blackwater was claimed by his friend Gendry to look at a magazine that he had found. A cousin I no longer liked one little bit came across to take a book from a nearby shelf. I coughed (it was definitely not an angry growl and someone had better not be smirking!).

“He most certainly makes up in talent and intelligence what he lacks in looks”, Edwy smiled. “If I did not know you so well, cousin, I would have thought you were trying to keep him for yourself!”

I looked across at the omega, now outlined against the setting sun through the main dining room window. Despite what Edwy had said I thought he looked handsome; so definitely male, like one of those Greek statues I had seen in London. But whereas they were cold and lifeless marble he was very much alive, and single. I frowned as I continued observing him, wondering why this fellow seemed to not like someone worth ten thousand a year. After all, I loved him. 

I blinked. Inside the safety of my mind maybe, but for the first time in my life I had used that word. The L-word. I _loved_ Mr. Bronn Blackwater? 

I walked over to the side-table to pour myself some more wine (or if I was being honest, to hide my face from the others), my emotions in turmoil. This was so, so not good.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Somehow I got through the interminable (two) hours until the visitors left, and made it to the safety of my room. Carlton looked at me strangely as he helped me undress – I was not shaking _that_ much, although the whisky he brought me was definitely appreciated - but eventually I was in bed and able to run through the shocking revelations of the evening.

It was true, and I so wished it were not. Thus far I had very much looked at the omega and just thought of..... well, doing It and then moving on to someone more suitable. The idea of us as husband and mate had seemed impossible, especially given his background and connections, Yet I did indeed love the fellow, damnation! Those impossibly blue eyes, that flyaway hair that I just longed to run my fingers through, that muscled body I wanted to have and to hold, and the way that despite being an omega he stood no nonsense from anyone, even his social superior Mr. Jaime Lannister the master of Pemberley. I could imagine it now; Mr. Bronn Lannister Laird of Pemberley, Mr. Bronn Lannister welcoming guests to our palatial home, Mr. Bronn Lannister writhing beneath me in my giant four-poster bed as I made him mine, Mr. Bronn Lannister, his stomach round with our first-born child….

I burrowed my head into my pillow and groaned. This was so unfair! Why did I have to want _him_ of all people?

There were all sorts of reasons why the whole thing was completely and utterly impossible, the two main ones being his irredeemably obnoxious family and the fact that the fellow did not seem to like me overly much. But this was the nineteenth century and people did not marry for love; they married for money and made the best of it. Pemberley was a solid one hundred and thirty-six miles from Longbourn (I may or may not have checked) so family visits would be few and far between, and I could always arrange to be ‘out’ when they did come. Although I might deign to stay if his uncle Mr. Mallister ever called, as he seemed tolerable. The London relatives, the ones in trade of all things, would definitely _not_ be welcome.

Right. I would let the omega know my decision the next day; I would generously allow us to be married at Longbourn but we would then adjourn to the safety of distant Derbyshire, far away from both his family and, more importantly, a great-aunt whom might possibly be ever so slightly annoyed at our union (as in the Pope might be ever so slightly Catholic). I would allow my mate to visit his family as he wished while I went on to London on urgent business, collecting him on my way home. He seemed healthy enough, so once he had produced five or six children to secure the Lannister line he would have done his duty. Although I did look forward to lots of time in bed with him before, during and after those pregnancies. Those muscles..... definitely! 

That was all settled, then.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I was not nor have I ever been a coward. However I did want to make my proposal without anyone else being present so I was more than a little annoyed the following day when Mr. Blackwater did not emerge from the Vicarage at the usual time or indeed any time thereafter. I wasted the best part of an hour sat in the library window (which chanced to have an excellent view of my quarry's house) before deciding that enough was enough. I would go to the Vicarage but my proposal would have to wait for the following day as I did not want to run the risk of it being interrupted.

The maid showed me in and I was surprised (and perhaps just a little disconcerted) to find only Mr. Blackwater at home. 

“Gendry and his husband have gone into town to do some shopping”, he explained, “and I had a slight headache so decided to stay home. Did you wish to leave a message, Mr. Lannister?”

“No, I just decided to call in whilst passing”, I said airily. “I rarely walk this way.”

He frowned at that.

“But you must come this way often”, he said. “Judging from the number of times we keep meeting each other.”

Damn over-smart omega! Still, at least our children would be certain to have good brains.

“I can hardly call in every day”, I said not at all defensively.

“Your cousin calls here often enough”, he observed. “He is a very pleasant young man.”

“A little too fond of the gaming tables”, I said, “but yes, Edwy is all right I suppose.”

“A most charming and attractive young gentleman”, he smiled. “And they say that soldiers are so rough. I believe that like me, he too has a number of brothers?”

“Three in the army like him”, I said, “and the viscount holding court at Standwell, not far from my house. They have a long tradition as a military family.”

“It must be nice to live in a great house”, he said a little dreamily. “Though the person you live with is far more important than the number of rooms they have.”

“You could see yourself as a Laird?” I asked curiously.

To my surprise he laughed.

“More like a soldier's mate!” he said.

I baulked at that. No way! 

“You and Edwy?” I said incredulously. “That is impossible!”

The omega's face darkened at once. He stood up sharply and I had to make an effort not to back away. I was not afraid of him of course; this was solely for his own safety. And my conscience could stop right there!

“What is between your cousin and myself is frankly none of your business, Mr. Lannister”, he said coldly. “You will now leave.”

“But....” 

“You may see yourself out.”

He swept from the room, leaving me feeling decidedly awkward. Still there was always tomorrow, and the opportunity to be a Laird, especially for an omega already in his late twenties, must surely trump being with an only passably good-looking twenty-one year-old in a dangerous career. Yes, everything was still fine.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I could hardly have been more mistaken.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	10. No – And Never!

**April 1808**

It would have been more than a little creepy for me to have been sat on Hook Hill with a pair of binoculars observing the front door of the Vicarage, waiting for a certain person to emerge. I was in fact only perusing the countryside and just happened to have been looking in the right direction when Mr. Blackwater emerged and, thankfully, headed round past the stables. That meant he was on his favourite walk and I could easily intercept him well away from any distractions.

When he came across me on a tree-stump in Carter's Wood he again did not seem overly pleased at my presence. Oh well, business first. I was sure there would be plenty of pleasure after our marriage, for me at least. 

“There is something I wish to say to you, Mr. Blackwater”, I began, wondering why my voice always seemed to rise at least an octave in the fellow's presence. It was not the only thing; I had had to wear the loose trousers again.

“Indeed”, he smiled politely. “Then pray speak, Mr. Lannister.”

I swallowed, feeling strangely nervous. 

“I have been thinking about marriage”, I began. “My marriage.”

He looked at me curiously. Surely he had to realize?

“For someone in your position, that would be important”, he said.

“Yes, um, my marriage”, I said. “To you.”

This was the point in the proceedings when I began to understand the meaning of that strange phrase, 'a horrible silence'. There was no joyous acceptance, no great delight, not even a short burst of feigned shock followed by joyous acceptance and/or great delight. He was looking at me in utter disbelief.

“Your marriage. To me.” 

It belatedly dawned on me that he was genuinely taken aback. That was a relief; it was only shock that was delaying my happiness.

“Um, yes”, I said awkwardly. “I mean, I know your family is a long way down the social scale from my own, but I am sure people could eventually be persuaded to overlook that.” 

“Overlook.” He seemed only to be able only to repeat what I was saying. And his acceptance seemed a bit slow in coming. 

“Indeed yes”, I went on. “My great-aunt will I suppose, be horrified but I really think it would all be for the best, do not you?”

“Best.” Far from joy, he was beginning to actually look angry. I wondered why. After all this was _me_ proposing marriage, to him of all people.

“Yes.” I shuffled my feet for some reason. “And your background.... well, it is hardly what most people would expect for a Laird of Pemberley, you know.” 

“Expect.” His face was growing dark and I thought once again of that poniard.

“Of course I would do what I could for your family”, I said generously, “and you could still see them by yourself from time to time....”

And _then_ I got a reaction, if not quite the one I had expected. He suddenly closed the distance between us and I stepped back in alarm. He looked _furious!_

“Thank you very much for your kind consideration, Mr. Lannister”, he growled (he did not exactly look thankful). “Given the circumstances I understand that the recipient of such affections is obliged to express gratitude for them, regardless of the extent to which they are returned. If I could feel any such gratitude, I would do so. But I happen to know that you have done more than enough for – or should I say _to_ – my family already. I must therefore decline your 'gracious' offer. Good day.”

And to my utter shock he started to walk off. I reached out to stop him but caught the flash of that poniard – damnation I had not even seen him reach for the thing – and backed away swiftly.

“But why?” I gasped, trying to make sense of his strange and inexplicable behaviour. “To be thrown over like this – you must have a reason?”

“I have two”, he said, and his tone was colder than one of Kersey's fake smiles. “I know what role you played in forcing Edmund and your friend Mr. Dayne apart. You cruelly and quite deliberately ruined what was almost certainly my brother's last chance of happiness. Be assured that I would never consider forming as much as an _acquaintanceship_ with someone who would hurt a beloved brother, far less marriage!”

“You are over-reacting!” I protested. “He will get over it. And he was only after Arthur for his money, anyway!”

For some reason that seemed to make him even angrier. I was beginning to get the impression that today was not going entirely according to plan.

“Do not even pretend to understand my brother, Mr. Lannister!” he growled. “He has been through things that someone like you cannot even begin to understand. I _hate_ you for what you did to him, hate! And that you boasted of your ‘great achievement’ to your cousin – that was despicable even by your 'standards'!”

Damn Edwy and his big mouth!

“But I love you!” I spluttered.

I seriously thought that he might try to stab me from that last look. I made sure to keep a safe distance from him.

“You do not know what love is, Mr. Lannister!” he almost snarled. “You ruined your friend's happiness for seeking to ally himself with one Blackwater omega because you considered our family beneath you, then you go and propose to another! Have you no shame?”

Damnation, why did he have to make a good point like that? I cringed before his anger.

“Your other reason?” I persisted. “I suppose that despite what you said, you believed Lieutenant Wickham after all?”

He stared at me almost pityingly. This was going from bad to worse.

“Do you honestly think so little of me that I cannot see through someone as shallow as Darius Wickham?” he sneered. “I know his sort all too well, and the fact he ceased his attentions towards me the minute he knew that we had no money only served to prove what a rat he is. You wish to know my other reason, Mr. Lannister? _I just do not like you!_ Indeed, I would not marry you if you were the last alpha left alive on the planet!”

He strode off, leaving me utterly dumbfounded. I stared after him in utter incredulity. I, one of the richest alphas in the country, had just been rejected by a complete nobody. What was the world coming to?

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

I was dreading that evening because the party from the Vicarage was due over, and never was I more relieved when the Reverend apologized to my great-aunt that Mr. Blackwater's headache had worsened and he had been unable to come. It was one of only two small good things to happen on what was otherwise a forgettable day, not helped when I confronted Edwy over his blurting out my role in ending the relationship between Arthur and Edmund Blackwater, and he countered with the annoyingly arguable statement that I had made a rod for my own back by not telling him that he and Bronn were brothers. 

I hated it when he was right!

The other good thing, if it could be classified as such, was that from their conversation Mr. Blackwater had clearly not told his friend about my ill-fated proposal. However the vicar's mate was, I had come to realize, a sharp fellow and he very clearly knew that something was amiss. Thank the Lord that Edwy and I would be leaving this hell-hole in four days' time, and I could put behind me one of the worst mistakes of my entire life.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	11. Tears Of A Clown

**April 1808**

After a restless – all right, sleepless - night I dragged myself out of bed knowing that I had to do something. Facing the omega who had so cruelly and unjustifiably rebuffed me, though – I shuddered at the very idea. In the end I decided on a letter, one which was one of the hardest that I had ever written. On the one hand I wished to defend my actions as regarded Mr. Edmund Blackwater and Arthur, but on the other I wished to avoid angering the omega any further (although if I was being honest, my bridges in that direction were probably all burned anyway). In the end I openly confessed my role in splitting the two up and pleaded only that I had done it because I had wanted to protect Arthur and had thought (perhaps in error, I very fairly conceded) that the younger Blackwater's lack of emotional display meant that he had not been serious about the relationship. 

Carlton brought me a cup of coffee mid-agony without my even asking, brewed extra strong just as I like when I am not at my best. I thanked him almost absent-mindedly and he looked at me in surprise. Was I such a poor excuse for an alpha that my own valet expected so little of me?

After a lot of thought I forced myself to put in the whole sorry story about Wickham and poor Tyrion, hoping that at least this might make Mr. Blackwater view me in a better light and prove that he had indeed been right about the scoundrel. I suggested that since he might well doubt my own word he could ask Edwy for confirmation of the sad tale (I should have mentioned that my close relationship with my cousin was because it had been he who had discovered poor Tyrion's elopement and had warned me in time, for which I was forever in his debt). I finished off with a pledge that I would never again bother the omega, by which time my wrist was aching. I did not really hope that my letter would do any good but at least I had done something.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

I took the letter to the Vicarage the day after my rejection (having first made sure that Mr. Blackwater was out), only to run into his friend Monseigneur Blackwater-Strickland. One look told me that the omega knew at least something of my troubles.

“You had better sit down”, he said, much to my surprise.

I did so. He looked at me thoughtfully. 

“Bronn did not tell me directly”, he said sharply, “but I worked out that you and that dreadful cousin of yours were behind Mr. Dayne's sudden departure last autumn. I do not think that I have ever seen poor Edmund so upset.”

I noted that he did not reference my ill-advised proposal. Thank the Good Lord, at least his friend was sparing me the indignity of making that public. That would have made me feel even worse than I did now. 

Once again, I had underestimated the Good Lord.

“Your friend has a low opinion of me”, I said, thinking as I spoke that that was the ultimate in understatements. “I merely wish to clarify certain issues for him. I know that he would not welcome speaking with me in person, so I thought that a letter was the best way.”

The omega took a deep breath.

“I spoke with Captain Fortescue this morning”, he said. “He told me that he had inadvertently told Bronn about your involvement in ruining Edmund's happiness, and that you had been very sharp with him last night as a result. From that and my friend's 'headache', I would conjecture that you and Bronn had words of some sort.

We had, I thought bitterly. The key word being 'never'.

“I also asked the captain about your trustworthiness”, the omega went on, “and he assured me that despite your apparent failure to understand basic humanity, you could be trusted. I have thought long and hard about this and I am going to tell you something, something that I am frankly surprised no-one in Hertfordshire told you.”

He took a deep breath. What was all this about?

“You believed that because Edmund was not open in his affections towards your friend, he did not truly love him”, he said. “You could not have been more wrong, Mr. Lannister. Bronn's brother finds it difficult to express affections of any sort because of what happened nearly seven years ago. He was raped!”

I stared at him in shock. What?

“The vile piece of filth who did it was Lieutenant Arras Trago, the son of Bronn's godfather”, he said. “He was also friends with Denny - Captain Morden-Tully, Bronn's and Edmund's cousin - and so came to Longbourn on occasion. It happened just after Edmund had turned eighteen; one day when everyone else was out Lieutenant Trago raped him, then tried to kill him to cover up his terrible crime.”

I gasped for breath. This was terrible!

“Why was this not made public?” I asked. “Lieutenant Trago died when he was stabbed in a drunken brawl, if I remember?”

The omega smiled sourly.

“That was the fabrication”, he said. “Bronn returned home just in time and attacked him. I am sure that as a trained soldier he thought that another omega would be a pushover. I wish I could have been there myself to see his face when Bronn thrust his poniard into the villain's foul black heart.”

I stared at him in stunned silence. 

“Denny was visiting the regimental doctor who lived in the area, and the two of them turned up shortly after Bronn”, he went on. “The doctor helped to hush the whole business up. Now you know why Bronn always carries that poniard with him at all times; it saved his brother's life even if it could not save his reputation.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Three months later Edmund found he was pregnant”, he sighed. “He miscarried two months after that and has been suffering from nightmares on and off ever since. It was bitterly unfair but, as you may imagine, in the eyes of the local people he was now 'damaged goods'; the family could hardly reveal the truth. I suspect, although I cannot know for sure, that the lieutenant's father guessed what had happened; I know that he volunteered for his last mission in the knowledge that it would likely kill him and he very deliberately put all his affairs in order before leaving. Bronn went to see him, that I do know; he wanted to leave Edmund money but Bronn refused, so it was given to a London charity that supports omegas.”

I stared at him in silence. What had I gone and done?

“I really hoped that when Edmund met your friend that it might work out”, he said sadly, “but like Bronn I could see that his failure to show any real emotions might lead people – _such as yourself_ – to think him cold and emotionless.”

I shuddered. I had so misjudged poor Mr. Edmund Blackwater. I was a terrible alpha!

I thanked Monseigneur Blackwater-Strickland for confiding in me and pledged never to reveal what he had said, then left. As I strode back to the big house I swore also that I would put this right as much as I could. I would tell Arthur what I had done, even if, as was likely, it cost me his friendship. I could not of course divulge the whole truth about Mr. Edmund Blackwater's past – that was that gentleman’s prerogative if things got that far – but I would admit my role in breaking up their relationship. I would also have to admit that, having persuaded Arthur that the omega was not interested in him and an alliance with his family would have been totally unsuitable, I had then gone and proposed to said omega's brother. 

I had an uneasy feeling that that last bit might just take some explaining.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

The shock of recent events forced me to sit down and evaluate my character, something which in all truthfulness I should have done much sooner in life. I did not like what I saw; a cold, shallow, selfish alpha who had misused his best friend and then insulted an omega who he had expected to marry him because of financial interests. I was a poor excuse for a human being, and for the first time in my life I had to face up to that fact.

There was little I could do to remedy matters just now, especially as Mr. Blackwater's headache 'persisted' and kept him away from Rosings for the next few days. I did however apologize to my cousin for my abuse of him over his inadvertently revealing my character to the omega, and even that was painful as he too looked at me almost incredulously. Was I such a poor alpha that even someone as merry as Edwy Fortescue thought so little of me?

The answer, apparently, was yes.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

Finally my last evening in Kent, and this time the whole Vicarage party had come round. Miss Diana, wearing a patterned green dress that was presumably not meant to have looked like a set of curtains gone wrong, was playing something long and depressing on the piano while Mr. Blackwater and Edwy chatted (again). I pretended to read a book while still not eavesdropping.

“My colonel writes that we are to be joined at Brighton by the Chiltern Militia”, Edwy observed. “The regiment of a certain Lieutenant Darius Wickham.”

I scowled. A reminder of my arch-enemy was not what I needed right now.

“Then I am sorry for the ladies and omegas of Brighton”, Mr. Blackwater said acidly. “Especially those with sufficient fortune and insufficiently wary guardians!”

“You too do not like Lieutenant Wickham?” Edwy asked, clearly surprised.

“I think that he is a most unpleasant person, without whom society could do very well”, Mr. Blackwater said firmly. “Edmund wrote to me last week that he was thrown out of Battle House after trying to see Mr. Roderick Payne without his uncle's knowledge. He is a dangerous man.”

“From what I have heard, most people in Hertfordshire think quite highly of him”, Edwy said.

“Most people in Hertfordshire are far too credulous”, Mr. Blackwater said, sounding almost angry about it. He shot a look towards me before adding, “of course, the actions of _some_ people do not serve to do them any favours!”

We were interrupted by the dinner gong and my only consolation as I followed my cousin in was that Mr. Blackwater seemed to dislike Lieutenant Wickham at least as much as he disliked me. 

It was not that much consolation.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

“It is a great pity you cannot stay another week”, my great-aunt said once we had eaten. “Mr. Blackwater is returning to Hertfordshire next Friday and he will have to travel post, which I consider _most_ unseemly. If you delayed for a week you could take him with you part of the way.”

I swallowed and glanced across at Mr. Blackwater who was directly opposite me. He looked about as enthralled as I at the prospect of a long journey together.

“I am sorry madam, but my business in London cannot be postponed any further”, I said firmly. “I have already delayed several important matters to remain here this long.”

“For which I am sure we are all grateful”, my great-aunt said starchily, looking pointedly at her grand-daughter. “But I dare say that we will see you again soon, nephew. And who knows? Next time you may have something to say regarding...... wedding bells?”

“I may indeed”, I said smoothly. “I just have to find the right person, and the right moment.”

“Indeed”, my great-aunt said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “And when you do propose, I am sure that a positive response is _guaranteed!”_

Mr. Blackwater was good. Not so much as a smirk, damn the fellow!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

My plans had been to ride back to London with Edwy, who would then travel down to Brighton to rejoin his regiment (a long way from Hertfordshire, I thought thankfully). I was due in the capital the day after Arthur and Kersey would return from Norfolk, then a week later we would all head north to attend the christening of young Fitzwilliam, son of my cousin the viscount. After a few days at Standwell we would all move on to Pemberley. Being in the capital would also enable me to confess to my friend just what I had done as regards Mr. Edmund Blackwater, a conversation which hung over me like a cloud as we drew nearer the capital. 

However on my arrival at the house I found that my plans were to be overthrown, or at least delayed. In a badly-written letter from Arthur – incredibly his handwriting was getting worse! - I just managed to make out that he and The Wicked Witch Of The North had stayed on in Norfolk due to their uncle being unwell and would proceed from there to meet up with me at Standwell on the agreed date. It irked me no end that I was unable to start to put right my mistake but I would just have to grin and bear it. Or at least bear it.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

In the nights since my cruel rejection I had begun to manage to get at least some sleep, but for some reason my being in London brought it all back to me. I tossed and turned in bed that night with the omega's words replaying themselves in my mind, especially the way in which those blue eyes had glowed with hatred.

_'I would never consider maintaining as much as an acquaintanceship with someone who would hurt a beloved brother, far less marriage!'_

I told myself that I had done what I had with the best of intentions, and no-one in Hertfordshire had told me why Mr. Edmund Blackwater did not display emotions particularly well (the fact that I had similarly not told anyone in the same county of Lieutenant Wickham's true nature was totally irrelevant). Mrs. Blackwater had clearly been angling for the marriage; I had simply been trying to protect my good friend.

_'You do not know what love is, Mr. Lannister!'_

I had to concede that. I had never been in love until now but I knew how the game was played. Or did I? I had judged Mr. Edmund Blackwater solely on appearances, and had been both covertly and openly rude to his brother when we had first met at that ball. And my proposal of marriage had been bordering on the offensive; I looked back on my dreadful choice of words now and I cringed. I had been so certain that I would be accepted. I had been painfully wrong on all counts.

_'Someone as cold and heartless as you.'_

It hurt to admit it, but the omega was right about that too. I had not even considered Mr. Bronn Blackwater's feelings before proposing, so sure had I been of acceptance. Worse, his criticisms of my double standards was all too well merited; I had persuaded his friend that a marriage with a Blackwater omega was most unfitting, only for me to then propose marriage to.... a Blackwater omega. And I had not even seen my complete and shameless hypocrisy. I was a bad alpha!

_'I hate you for what you did to him!'_

That hurt. The man who I loved actually hated me, and nothing was going to change that. I had not been foolish enough to suppose Mr. Bronn Blackwater held any romantic feelings for me but I had assumed – so, so wrongly – that my ten thousand and a promise of supporting his family would be enough to make the fellow accept me, and maybe then a closer relationship would follow. I could hardly have been more mistaken.

_'That you boasted of your ‘great achievement’ to your cousin – that was despicable, even by your standards!'_

Why, oh why had I boasted to that blabbermouth Edwy? And then had the gall to try to blame him for the mess my own pride had landed me in? Lord, I could not have handled things worse! 

_You wish to know my other reason? I just do not like you!_

It was not just the rejection of my suit that was so painful but the manner of it. A polite refusal would have been bad enough, but the open fury, the look of sheer, undiluted rage when the omega had advanced on me – it was horrible, and, I had to admit it, totally and utterly deserved! The brutal way in which he had crushed my foolish expectations, nurtured by his defence of me against the lies of Lieutenant Wickham and his relative civility during our all too brief conversations – he might as well have stabbed me with his poniard and have done with it. 

_‘I would not marry you if you were the last alpha left alive on the planet!’_

I groaned at that painful parting shot. Mr. Bronn Blackwater would soon be on his way back to Hertfordshire, no doubt looking forward to consoling his elder brother whose life I had so spectacularly wrecked. He would probably be quietly laughing to himself every time he recalled my stupid proposal as he strolled amongst the fields around Longbourn, the wind making his impossible hair even untidier, his blue eyes sparkling in the sun. The only person I had ever wanted in my whole life, and the man hated me.

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, trying to blot out the shame of what I had done. And for the first time since I had been a child, I cried.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 


	12. Home And Hosed

**May 1808**

My journey up from London had taken me through Hertfordshire, and as I had promised Arthur I had called in at the solicitor's office in Meryton to sign some papers for him. I had thought to have avoided any contact with the Blackwaters but my recent run of ill luck had continued; I had seen (and had been seen by) Mr. Oliver Blackwater. I was certain that he would soon be communicating my presence to everyone at Longbourn, especially his eldest brother. Damnation!

I also chanced to meet someone whose discretion could rather more be relied upon. I had only seen Mr. Bronn Blackwater's uncle Mr. Mallister on but a few occasions, most memorably that time in the village shop, but I ran into him while I was grabbing a sandwich from a local tavern. We exchanged brief pleasantries and he mentioned that his eldest nephew was 'briefly' back in the neighbourhood. Puzzled at his wording I pressed for details, and he explained that Mr. Bronn Blackwater's other uncle and aunt – the ones in trade, presumably – were planning to take him with them on a holiday to the Lakes. 

I did not think at all as I headed north of how wonderful it would have been to row the omega on serene Coniston or reed-girt Windermere, nor to take him back to some secluded cottage where we could be alpha and omega, away from the world for a time. Any chance I may have had of making that fantasy come true had been well and truly wrecked by my own damn pride.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

May Day dawned bright and sunny, and I groaned as I hauled myself up in bed. It had been an exhausting week, spent dodging the continuing attentions of The Wicked Witch Of The North and feeling guilty at the continuing sight of my best friend being an emotional wreck while knowing I was responsible for it. Worst of all I had somehow not been able to find the right moment to tell Arthur about my actions in breaking him away from Mr. Edmund Blackwater, something I was not looking forward to at all. It was not cowardice, I told myself as Carlton dressed me. I was just waiting for the right time.

Like never, a familiar gravelled voice whispered from the back of my mind.

I eventually came down and found Arthur in the library, reading something that looked far too learned for him (I loved the fellow dearly but his literature tastes oftentimes made me cringe). This looked more like the sort of thing that Mr. Bronn Blackwater would read...

“You into Ancient Greece now, Adey?” I asked, trying to distract myself from some unwelcome thoughts.

He looked at me, or rather through me. I had made him like this. I felt such a heel!

“Eddie read this whilst he was recovering”, he said, looking strangely guilty as if he feared I might reprimand him for mentioning anything to do with Hertfordshire. “I.... just wondered what he found in it.”

He stood up and wandered out of the room with his book, sniffing slightly. I looked after him, thinking that I could not possibly feel worse.

As if to prove me wrong Kersey drifted in at that very moment. Fortunately I was able to avoid her by perusing the morning mail, where I was relieved to find that I had a letter from my steward detailing several minor matters of business that needed my attention. Nothing of great import, but suddenly being home had a great deal more attraction than a further twenty-four hours spent seeing my friend being miserable and avoiding the Wicked Witch Of The North. I hurried away to make my departure known to my host.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

I decided to ride to Pemberley rather than take the carriage and sent Carlton on ahead. I smiled to myself at how horrified my great-aunt would have been at the idea of _servants_ riding inside a gentleman's carriage but I saw no reason for them not to, provided they kept the thing clean. And those leaden clouds in the west threatened rain for later. 

_'I would not marry you if you were the last alpha left alive on the planet!'_

I winced as Mr. Bronn Blackwater's final broadside flashed through my mind. I knew that I still had to tell Arthur what I had done, but my friend was such a wreck right now I worried that the admission would only make things worse (yes, all right; I _was_ being a coward). I also feared that an overemotional Arthur could quite easily respond by heading straight down to Hertfordshire and begging Mr. Edmund Blackwater to forgive him. My revelation would probably cost me my fellow alpha's friendship but I knew I deserved it and more. From the moment I had entered Hertfordshire my actions had been cold and unfeeling, and I had been just as bad in Kent. 

I smiled sourly at the irony of the situation. Mr. Bronn Blackwater had, however unknowing, changed me for the better. No matter how much the process hurt.

I was about to take the final turn for Pemberley when I realized that Ajax was limping slightly and, dismounting, I found he had cast a shoe. Only four miles away, damnation! Fortunately I was within sight of the hamlet of Slawerby, and despite the day the smith was open for business. 

There was a good tavern back at the turning and I went for a drink and a meal there. I had just emerged from the place when I saw a fine carriage coming down the road from Lambton and carefully taking the sharp turn heading back north to Pemberley. The covers were up but I caught a brief glimpse of one of the gentlemen inside. I stared in amazement. It could not be....

The carriage rounded a corner and disappeared. I sighed at my apparently becoming delusional; Mr. Bronn Blackwater was on a tour of the Lakes and most definitely not in that coach, no matter how much I wanted him to be. I sat down with my meal, noticing how the grey clouds were massing. Thank the Lord I was only a few miles from home.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

Finally riding up Lambton Fell I had my first view of the dear old place. It looked beautiful in the afternoon sunlight though the shadow of the clouds hung over part of it. To my surprise an open carriage was parked in front of the house, looking very like the one I had seen back in Slawerby. My house was open to the public but in this remote corner of the county we received few visitors, particularly with so much beautiful countryside around. 

Mr. Bronn Blackwater finally comes to Pemberley, I thought to myself with a sigh. I really am getting delusional in my.... early middle age.

I was still lost in thought when there was the rumble of thunder, followed seconds later by the first heavy splash of a late spring storm. Though I spurred Ajax into a gallop, I was totally drenched by the time I reached the stable yard and could hand the old fellow to a groom. To add to my annoyance the deluge stopped almost the instant I dismounted. Sighing at my sodden state I squelched towards the house, realizing too late that the carriage owners were just emerging through the glass doors in front of him. Great! There could be few things worse than looking like a drowned rat in front of total strangers…

I gulped and took that straight back; apparently there _could_ be something worse. One of the party was far from a stranger, for a pair of stunning blue eyes were staring straight at me, the expression in them one of total disbelief. Mr. Bronn Blackwater, the omega I had dreamed of installing as Laird of this house, was standing right outside it and I – looked awful!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 


	13. Pains And Put-Downs

**May 1807**

Of all the ways I had imagined my next encounter with Mr. Bronn Blackwater starting, none had involved me standing there so wet I might as well have gone swimming in my clothes. I was utterly mortified, and the only saving grace was that my interlocutor seemed similarly perturbed by the advent of a soaking wet alpha. I believe that I made some perfunctory inquiries as to his welfare – I may have asked after his family more than once, hardly the best subject in the circumstances – but my normal wits had been blown to kingdom come by finding him here of all places.

He was _beautiful!_ The sharp spring wind had brought some colour to his cheeks and his blue eyes shone even more than I remembered. And – although it was most likely wishful thinking on my part – he did not seem as openly hostile as he had at our last meeting back in Kent. Mr. Bronn Blackwater, here at Pemberley!

I bade him farewell and squelched into the house, determined to get myself dry and speak to him again. I had noticed an older couple standing some distance back from us as I had stood there dripping away, and had presumed that they were the aunt and uncle in trade who I had seen fit to look down upon. And far from pressing for an introduction to me, they had held back and let us talk. It shamed me that I had so demeaned them.

I owed Carlton a considerable bonus as he got me out of my wet clothes and dried me off far more quickly than my own fumbling fingers could ever have managed. Even better, while giving me a large whisky that he had to hand, he told me that the visitors had been shown around the house but not yet the gardens so might be expected to stay a while, although I still feared that after my arrival Mr. Blackwater might feel inclined to curtail his visit out of embarrassment. I all but sprinted from the room to find my quarry.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

Mrs. Peters the housekeeper informed me that our visitors had indeed headed around the Long Walk, and she most definitely quirked an eyebrow at my sigh of relief. Knowing that this would bring our visitors back by the old stone bridge I set off in that direction. I soon found them, Mr. Blackwater a short distance ahead of his relatives. He looked at me curiously as I approached but not, I noted again, with any overt hostility. Although perhaps he was just being polite to the owner of the house he was viewing, with his relatives so close.

“Mr. Blackwater”, I said, suddenly uneasy in his presence.

He looked at me warily. 

“Mr. Lannister”, he replied.

We both bowed. So far so good; I had managed two whole words and had not made a complete and utter fool of myself.

 _Yet_ , my unhelpful conscience put in. 

“Will you do me the courtesy of introducing me to your friends?” I asked.

That clearly surprised him, and I could well imagine him puzzling over someone as prideful as myself deigning to notice lower life forms. 

“This is my aunt Mrs. Smallwood, and my uncle Mr. Hereward Smallwood”, he said. He paused before adding pointedly, “they are in _trade.”_

To his evident surprise I did not turn tail and sprint away (as, shamefully, I might well have done not so long ago) but instead bowed to both his relatives and fell into conversation with his uncle. On discovering him to be a keen angler I immediately invited him to come and fish on the estate, promising to provide whatever equipment he needed. I caught Mrs. Smallwood staring at her nephew in wonder, clearly confused as to why this alpha they had doubtless heard such bad things about – rightly, it pained me to admit - was behaving in such a manner. 

Mrs. Smallwood was also clearly a lady of intelligence for on reaching the next turning she declared that she again needed her husband’s arm to support her, which meant that Mr. Blackwater again had to walk with me. A Jaime Lannister who, it seemed, appeared to have suddenly forgotten the art of conversation. We walked for some little time – I did not fail to notice that the Smallwoods had fallen some way back, which I suspected was deliberate on their part - before the omega spoke.

“We did not expect to find you at home, Mr. Lannister”, he said levelly. “We were led to believe from the people at the inn that you were not due back until tomorrow.”

So he had only come here because he had thought to have avoided me. But then I could hardly have expected otherwise, given my treatment of him and his family to date.

“I came back a day early”, I explained. “Business, you know. Arthur – Mr. Dayne - and Miss Lannister will join me tomorrow.”

The moment I said it I feared for his reaction to that news, and he looked at me coolly. I also had the distinct impression that he was considering saying something of import. His aunt was now almost out of sight, apparently fascinated by a frankly ugly rhododendron bush. My opinion of her and her husband rose only further (and it was not the only thing; King James' timing was as bad as ever, damn the fellow!).

“I have been thinking about your letter, Mr. Lannister”, he said slowly. “While I cannot condone your actions, I find upon reflection that I can perhaps begin to understand them. To act, however rashly, in defence of someone who means a lot to you. I can relate to that.”

I nearly fell over my own feet, and looked at him in amazement. He hurried on.

“Your actions were foolish, however, and they caused poor Edmund much pain. He has been through far too much in his life already and did not deserve to have Mr. Dayne taken away from him.”

I hung my head in shame.

“I misread the situation”, I said quietly. “I am sorry for that.”

“What was done is done”, he said sadly. “I wish things could have been different, though. Edmund really did love your friend but he has not been able to show emotions ever since….”

He stopped and reddened, and I covered his distraction by making an asinine observation about the nearby fountain. We walked on in silence, each lost in our own thoughts until we were almost at the steps again. His aunt and uncle were far behind by this time. I took a deep breath and braced myself.

“I wonder, Mr. Blackwater, if I might prevail upon you for a small favour?”

He looked at me in horror, and I realized too late just how he might have misinterpreted me.

“Not that!” I blurted out. “I promised, and for all I have been I am a man of my word! Only… I mentioned my stay at Longbourn to my omega brother in a letter to him, and I know that he would dearly like to be introduced to you. He too is due here tomorrow, from London.”

He looked at me uncertainly, very clearly wondering why Mr. Jaime Lannister would want him anywhere near a family that he had so brutally rejected. I trembled at his likely reaction until he smiled slightly.

“You were very gracious to my aunt and uncle”, he said, and I could almost hear the unspoken 'amazingly so, considering they are in _trade'._ “Yes. I would be delighted to be introduced to Mr. Tyrion Lannister.”

The discussion moved on to the much safer ground of the sights and pleasures of Derbyshire, on which I was thankfully knowledgeable. His aunt and uncle eventually caught us up by the steps and, declining my invitation to stop for refreshments, alighted to their carriage though not before Mr. Smallwood had promised to return in two days' time for some fishing. As they drove away I felt..... not exactly hopeful but at least better. Mr. Blackwater's open hostility back in Kent seemed to have softened into at least an understanding of my foolishness, even if I had no right to hope for more.

But I did anyway.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

My brother Tyrion, I knew, disliked The Wicked Witch Of The North as much as I did and had arranged his journey via the Great North Road to avoid stopping off at Standwell which would have led to his having been expected to accompany the party there to Pemberley. This meant that he arrived to the house mid-morning the next day, several hours before my other guests, and I was able to tell him of Mr. Blackwater's presence in the area. 

The Imp looked at me shrewdly; he had always known me far too well.

“And you wish to use me as a reason to see him again today”, he guessed. “Jaime Lannister, you are smitten!”

I turned bright red.

“I am _not_ smitten!” I protested.

“So you would not mind waiting until certain other people arrive then?” he smiled.

I glared at him. At times like this I could see the joys of being an only child!

“I shall get changed”, he said, “and we can drive into Lambton so that I may meet this omega who has you so.... smitten!”

He strode off, smirking far too loudly for such a small person. At least he did not know that I had actually proposed to and been rejected by Mr. Blackwater, or I would never have heard the last of it!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

Mr. Blackwater's party were staying at the Well-Beloved, the principal inn in Lambton, and we were fortunate that they had only just come in from a visit to a friend of Mrs. Smallwood's. The couple were at the bar while Mr. Blackwater was reading upstairs, so a servant was sent to fetch him. He seemed surprised at the suddenness of our visit; I supposed he had expected that he and his aunt might visit the house the following day when his uncle was fishing. I only hoped that I did not seem too eager.

The Imp took quickly to Mr Blackwater which surprised me as he did not usually get on with strangers, but the latter was soon putting him at ease and sharing anecdotes about his brothers with him as well as discussing their common interest in piano-playing. I felt, inexplicably, as if another hurdle had been crossed in that my brother liked my..... acquaintance.

At the end of our visit Tyrion, surprisingly forward for him, politely invited Mr. Blackwater and his aunt to luncheon the next day so they could formally accompany Mr. Smallwood. The only thing that perturbed me ever so slightly was the knowing looks that the Smallwoods were giving me as I watched Tyrion and Mr. Blackwater talk. I was almost glad to get away, even if the omega escorted us back to our carriage. We said our formal goodbyes and he had turned to leave when I suddenly felt impelled to speak.

“Mr. Blackwater?”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow at me.

“Mr. Lannister?”

“Um.... thank you!”

He smiled slightly and returned to the inn. Across the carriage some short personage of absolutely no consequence whatsoever was smirking like there was no tomorrow, but I did not care. For tomorrow I would see the man I..... Mr. Blackwater again.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

I did not mention our visitors to Arthur and Kersey when they arrived, saving the news for the following morning. I could see at once that The Wicked Witch Of The North was wary but Arthur looked delighted, and I wondered again as to his feelings towards Mr. Edmund Blackwater. Which reminded me; I had still not found exactly the right moment to admit what I had done in Hertfordshire yet. I would do it soon.....ish.

My conscience had better not even start!

Despite my hopes that Kersey would take herself off somewhere to avoid our visitors or perhaps even come down with something (the Black Death?), she was there like the proverbial bad smell when Mrs. Smallwood and Mr. Blackwater were announced, Arthur having already gone off to set Mr. Smallwood up with his fishing equipment. My cousin was, unfortunately, her usual unpleasant self, about as welcoming as an iceberg. Thankfully she did not catch Tyrion rolling his eyes at her complete lack of social graces; there was as I said no love lost between them.

All went tolerably well until the pestilential woman turned to Mr. Blackwater and remarked that the removal of the militia from Meryton must have been a great loss to _his_ family in particular. I could see that that angered the omega, and I noticed Tyrion flinching beside him. I knew that he was remembering his own unfortunate dalliance with Wickham, and my protective instincts flared up. But Mr. Blackwater spoke first.

“We bear the loss with admirable fortitude, Miss Lannister”, he said with what was obviously a false smile. “Yet we struggle bravely on. We cannot _all_ live an empty life of luxury at someone else's expense, you know!”

Oh what a fine bitch slap! The dratted woman reddened considerably and excused herself from the room. Mr. Peter Annesley, Tyrion's companion, tried (unsuccessfully) to turn a laugh into a cough. I caught the imp whispering a small word of thanks to Mr. Blackwater as the harridan left the room. 

All right, it was less a small word and more a triumphal dance before she had reached the door. Subtlety really was beyond him!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 

When it was time for our visitors to leave I volunteered myself to go and fetch Mr. Smallwood. He and Arthur were getting on well, I was pleased to note, and I helped them pack everything up. My friend asked if our visitor was enjoying his holiday and to my surprise the fellow hesitated.

“To tell the truth we shall both be glad to return”, he admitted. “I love being here of course, and this is my wife’s home county, but we both miss our children much more than we had expected. This is the first time we have been away from them for so long.”

“How many children do you have?” I asked.

“Two boys and a girl”, he beamed, the pride evident in his voice. “Rachael, an alpha Josiah, and James, a beta. Ten, eight, and six years of age.”

“It must be difficult to find someone to care for them for so long”, Arthur said.

“We are fortunate in that aspect”, he said. “They are staying at Longbourn with their cousin Edmund, Bronn's brother.”

Mr. Smallwood then focussed his attention on his box, giving me a clear view of Arthur’s face. For a moment the boy had seemed to have translated himself to another world, and I could almost see him picturing the thoughts of his former love surrounded by happy children, playing riotously in the fields of Hertfordshire. Then his face suddenly darkened and he turned away with what was very obviously a barely stifled sob. I coughed loudly to try to cover it up but I would never forget the look of pain on his face. I, Jaime Lannister, had done that. And I was long overdue in setting about undoing it.

As I lay in bed that evening my mind turned to the problem of Mr. Edmund Blackwater. I first needed to discover first if he still felt anything for Arthur before trying to repair the hurt I had caused. That meant – ugh! - I had no other choice than to apply to his brother for information. Something highly improper for which I could expect a whole load of opprobrium. But it had to be done. I would visit the inn the following day and talk with him. I slept poorly that night, worried about just how bad that conversation would be.

It was to be even worse than I had feared.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩ 


	14. Old Thunderguts

**May 1808**

Of all the conversations that I had had with Mr. Bronn Blackwater I believed that this would come second in difficulty only to my ill-worded proposal in that Kentish wood. But when I was ushered into the room where the Smallwoods were staying, the omega seemed almost distraught. The sight was heartbreaking; I desperately wanted to comfort him but that would have been wrong on so many levels.

“What has happened?” I asked anxiously.

He made what was clearly an effort to pull himself together.

“I have to return home at once”, he said bitterly. “I have received the most dreadful news; there is not a moment to lose. I must find my aunt and uncle.”

“You should send a servant after them”, I urged. “You are clearly in no state to go yourself.”

He conceded my point and rang for a servant, giving the fellow directions as to where he thought his relatives had gone before sinking back into his chair. I could not but feel for him; despite his impressive frame he seemed so helpless just now.

“It is my brother Robert”, he sighed. “He was visiting with a friend in Brighton and he…. he has eloped. With, of all people, Lieutenant Wickham!”

I gasped. It hit me at once that this was at least partly my fault; Arthur had urged me to make it clear to the people of Hertfordshire just what sort of character they had in their midst but I, prideful as ever, had deemed them unworthy of being so warned. And this was the consequence; the man I loved all but crying in front of me. Certain social exile awaited his family now; there was no way that someone as mercenary as Wickham would ever marry young Robert Blackwater for under a thousand a year. Once again I had hurt the man I loved.

I started dolefully at my.... the omega, still hunched up and shaking. I so wanted to go over there and take him in my arms but I knew I could not. Instead I just stood there helplessly until I heard the welcome sound of Mr. and Mrs. Smallwood returning. Excusing myself I went out and met them on the stairs, briefly summarizing the situation for them before wishing them Godspeed for their journey home.

Meanwhile I had a journey to make of my own.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

I left Pemberley at once, striking across country to Grantham and the Great North Road hence avoiding the risk of passing the Smallwoods and Mr. Blackwater on the way. I arrived in the capital about an hour after sunset and immediately dispatched Sandy a letter beseeching him to help me find the runaways as a matter of urgency. 

Mercifully my friend came through for me even more quickly than I could have dared hope. The very next morning he sent a message that my quarry, despite having intimated to their friends that they were heading for Graitney¹, were in truth staying at a small inn on the southern edge of the capital, and that Wickham had left Brighton due to his gambling and other debts (as if that surprised me!), taking the omega who had been in heat at the time. I could have used my lawyer to force my nemesis into a debtors’ prison but I had other, much crueller plans for the blackguard. And for the heedless Robert Blackwater who had threatened the happiness of his own brother, the man I loved.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

It was fortunate that Edwy's brother Edward was in exactly the right position to do what I needed. Though he was shocked at the request.

“How much you must hate this fellow!” he smiled, pulling out a form. “Of course there are commissions available, even for a general like Old Thunderguts. You do know he won't allow your man to breathe unless he does it 'the army way'?”

I smiled unpleasantly. 

“That is my intention”, I said grimly. “And it has the added bonus of his being based about as far away in England as he can be without leaving the country. I only hope the regiment goes on active service soon.”

“Unlikely, at least in the short term”, he said. “The regiment has not long returned from Iberia so cannot be sent back there again for a year at least. Although given the mess that the Little General is making of things, I am sure they will be in demand very soon after.”

He named a price, I handed over a cheque and signed the relevant forms, and it was done. The whole thing took less than ten minutes.

 _Captain_ Darius Wickham is now a member of one of the most notable regiments in His Majesty's army!” my cousin smiled. “Will you be there when he learns who his new master is?”

“Oh yes!” I grinned. “I will also be making sure he gets there, and that he takes his wonderful new mate with him. There is more than one way to give a man a life sentence!”

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Wickham stared at me in astonishment. I did not smile in triumph, much as I wanted to. For all the times he had wrecked or tried to wreck my life, revenge was truly a dish best served cold.

“A whole decade!” he stammered, his eyes wide with horror. “And Old Thunderguts? Even the Grand Old Duke of York is afraid of him!”

“Ten years”, I said firmly. “It is a simple choice, and one I should have forced on you long ago. Either you accept a full commission in the army and stay with both it and Robert Blackwater for not less than a decade. Or I take the matter before the courts and have you thrown in the debtors' prison, from which we both know you will never escape.”

“This is revenge for Tyrion, is it not?” he sneered.

I looked at him in utter contempt. His father had been one of the most noble men to have ever walked the earth, but the rotten apple had fallen a long, long way from the good tree.

“Do you have a choice?” I asked acidly. “I will clear all your debts including the ones you ran up in Longbourn and Brighton. I will settle a small amount on Mr. Blackwater – _not_ on you – which along with his family inheritance will enable you both to live at an acceptable level. It will be quite interesting, I must confess, to see which of you breaks the other first!”

“I hate you!”

“Your choice, Wickham. Mr. Robert Blackwater, or the debtors' prison.”

Wickham glared at me but he knew I had won.

“Fine!” he snapped. “I will take him!”

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Persuading Wickham into the arrangement had been relatively easy, compared to when I told Mr. Smallwood what I had done and asked him to deal with Mr. Blackwater for me. Bronn's uncle stared at me in horror.

“My brother and I will never be able to repay you!” he said at last. 

“I take the expense fully upon myself”, I said firmly. “It was my fault this whole sorry mess came about. My friend advised me to lay bare Wickham's character to the people of Hertfordshire but I refused, because I did not deem them worthy of being warned. I was arrogant and prideful, and this is the unhappy consequence.”

“It would have taken a great effort for them to believe you anyway”, Mr. Smallwood pointed out, “since I know from Bronn as to their opinion of you at the time. My poor brother is distraught at the whole business especially as he was advised against allowing Robert to go to Brighton in the first place.”

“Was he?” I asked curiously. “By whom?”

“Bronn”, Mr. Smallwood explained. “Even when he told us of how the two of you met in Hertfordshire, he counselled against believing everything that Lieutenant Wickham said. He has always been very good at reading people.”

“It is a pity that his father declined such good advice”, I said grimly. “I must also ask that you do not inform anyone at Longbourn of my involvement in this matter, sir.”

“Mr. Lannister!”

“I am serious, sir. That family has suffered enough for my pride as it is. I would not have them bear the knowledge that a fellow they so dislike sorted out a problem of his own making.”

He looked at me speculatively. 

“I do not think quite _everyone_ there dislikes you, Mr. Lannister”, he said with a smile. “But I must thank you again for acting on behalf of.... my dear nephew.”

I knew from his words that the fellow could see right through me. It was very clearly not _Robert_ Blackwater to whom he was referring. And best of all he was kind enough not to say any more.

“Mr. Bronn Blackwater is safely back in Hertfordshire, I presume?” I asked carefully. “I hope that he has recovered from the shock of all this.”

“Yes”, Mr. Smallwood said, seeming rather thoughtful all of a sudden. “Perhaps you may meet him there one day.”

“I have no reason to return to that county, sir”, I said firmly.

“That is a pity”, he said. “Talking of Hertfordshire, there has been a most curious development there. Mr. Robert Stark has married.”

“Why is that curious?” I asked. “The fellow had poor manners and terrible taste in clothes, but I am sure that those failings should not have debarred him from getting married.”

Mr. Smallwood smiled.

“His marriage to a poor girl from a Buckinghamshire family that his mother disliked greatly has grievously displeased his family”, he explained, “and they have disinherited him. Mr. Jonathan Snow in particular is now a very rich man and has been seeing a lot of Bronn recently.”

I shuddered at the thought of the alpha, who was I supposed handsome in a certain light but certainly not worthy of my.... of Mr. Bronn Blackwater.

“Money tends to marry money as a rule”, I said dismissively. Mr, Smallwood shook his head.

“I think that quite soon, he will propose”, he said, clearly watching my face for any reaction. “There is I happen to know a considerable sum set aside for the first of the next generation, whatever the bloodline, and with Brandon now sixteen and already engaged Mr. Snow will have to move quickly to secure it. I know that my nephew appreciates the urgency in this matter.”

“Urgency?” I asked, a little too loudly. I calmed my suddenly rapid breathing. “What do you mean?”

Again, he did not comment on my reactions. That I had demeaned someone like this so recently said a lot about my past character; at least I was now honest enough to acknowledge that fact.

“Omegas have to consider a lot of factors when they marry”, Mr. Smallwood said gently. “And with Mr. Snow's improved prospects he is now not far short of your Mr. Dayne when it comes to wealth, let alone the fact that he is – or so my wife says – quite handsome.”

I did not like that at all.

“I think that I had better be returning to my friends in Derbyshire”, I said. “I... will bear you words in mind, sir.”

I bowed to the gentleman and left. Now I had to get Arthur back to Hertfordshire and swiftly, for both our sakes. Which would mean coming clean about what I had done over Mr. Edmund Blackwater. That would be a most painful conversation.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Indeed it would be. _In every sense._

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

_Notes:_  
 _1: Now Gretna and Gretna Green, Dumfries-shire, Scotland. Lord Hardwicke's Act of 1753 had striven to prevent men from abducting or eloping with heiresses and then marrying them, but it had only applied in England and Wales. The opening of a fast road to Scotland in the 1770s meant that Graitney, the first settlement across the Border, became the go-to destination for couples as they could be married under Scottish law, sometimes by the village blacksmith over his anvil. The loophole was finally closed in 1856 but Gretna Green is still massively popular today and there are two smithies where couples can have their unions blessed._


	15. Love Hurts

**June 1808**

After a brief stop off in Hertfordshire to hand some letters over to Arthur's steward – this time luck was on my side and no-one from Longbourn saw me – I had returned to Pemberley. Even better, The Wicked Witch Of The North was off to visit a friend of hers on the Yorkshire coast (yes, I too was surprised that she had one) and was too full of the news that the Prince of Wales himself would be in the White Rose County to pay me more than the customary annoying attentions. 

Once she was safely seen off I cornered Arthur in the library.

“Have you thought any more about Netherfield, Adey?” I asked.

He visibly tensed before replying. And he still looked sad at the mention of Hertfordshire.

“I..... er, I did not get round to asking Wilkes to put out any feelers”, he admitted, blushing. “Thought I might just let the lease run out, you know.” 

I suspected that the nearby window was only marginally less transparent.

“Only I know how much you enjoyed our time there”, I said. “I was wondering…. how do you feel about going back?”

He looked curiously at me. 

“I suppose”, he said. “I mean, it seems a shame to have a house and not use it.” He hesitated before adding tentatively, “you.... would come with me?”

“I would be delighted to, my friend.”

He got up to take his book back to the library, clearly still puzzling over my words. I waited until he was gone for some little time before pumping my fist into the air. Score!

Then I remembered that I still had to have that conversation about my actions in breaking up his relationship with Mr. Edmund Blackwater. I was not out of the woods yet, not by a long chalk.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Within three days of our return no less than eight local families had called to pay their respects to the master of Netherfield. Much to my annoyance however, one Mr. Theodore Blackwater had been conspicuous by his absence (although I would have wagered a guinea that his dreadful wife was having kittens at his non-appearance). I was further depressed by a chance sighting of Mr. Bronn Blackwater in Longbourn who looked as glorious as ever; fortunately he did not spot me and I was able to slip away.

Finally I had to suggest to Arthur that it would be discourteous for us not to call on the principal family in the area some time (even if said principal family was pointedly ignoring us). He agreed – _very_ quickly - and we set out to Longbourn.

Mrs. Blackwater was, incredibly, even worse than I had remembered. She positively gushed over Arthur, was barely civil towards me, and seemed determined to tell us several times over about her youngest son's recent marriage. It amused me that she would never know what a critical part I myself had played in securing that union, but I held my tongue. I was busy monitoring the interaction between Arthur and Mr. Edmund Blackwater, maybe also watching the latter's elder brother, and definitely wondering why it was so damnably hot in this room. Arthur was clearly desperate to talk to Edmund, who perhaps understandably seemed more than a little flustered by his renewed attentions. I also caught the eldest Blackwater looking straight at _me_ one time, presumably wondering what my role in all this was. He was far too sharp to not know that Arthur would never have returned to the area without my concurrence. 

Before we left, Mrs. Blackwater invited us both to a dinner she was hosting on Monday week and Arthur accepted with alacrity. He was smiling broadly as we resumed our carriage, and that made me in turn feel happier than I had done in weeks. Until I came to the unpleasant realization that this was when I had to come clean to him as to how I had destroyed his first chance of happiness all those months ago. It was not going to be pretty.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

It was not. For a brief moment I thought he might have been prepared to accept what I had done as just a misguided attempt to help him, which it sort of had been. In a way. Then he had turned to look me full in the face, and there had been the briefest of warning glints in his brown eyes before he had lashed out. I could have dodged but I knew he had to let him get this out of his system. He had every right to be angry. Months and months of happiness gone, and his best friend – his former guardian, the man he trusted above all others – had betrayed him.

“Why?” he yelled, tears in his eyes. “In the name of God, why Jaime? What did I do to deserve that? From you of all people!”

“I was trying to protect you, Adey”, I muttered, checking my jaw to make sure that it was still attached. “I feared that he might just be after you for your money; you know his familial situation as well as I do. And he never seemed to show any real interest in you.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, well. Eddie – he does not show emotion very well.”

“Hardly to be expected”, I muttered before I could stop myself.

His frown somehow got even deeper. I silently cursed my big mouth.

“You know something about him!” he said accusingly. “You have been digging into his past! Damnation, Jaime!”

“I know a little”, I hedged. “What has he told you?”

“Not much”, he said, “except that he got hurt in his last relationship. Is it very bad?”

“Yes”, I said. “But it is his prerogative to give you the details. I am sorry I snooped, Adey. I was only trying to protect you.”

He glared at me. I wished that I had mastered his pleading look that he used on me from time to time, but the only time I had ever tried it he had asked if I needed the bathroom.

“Hmm. And another thing. Did Kersey help you in this? She suddenly turned against the Blackwaters for no reason, as I recall. She even started saying bad things about Eddie's brother although I thought that was just because he did not wish to be her special friend.”

I blushed.

“That is Kersey for you”, I said dismissively.

He did not seem convinced. I was beginning to get an uneasy feeling that my troubles were far from over.

“But why?”, he mused. “I mean, I can understand why she might not want _me_ to be connected with the Blackwaters, but Kersey only ever does things like that if she sees some benefit to herself. I mean, it is not like you….”

He stopped. I could almost see the gears churning in his head. This was so not good.

“She surely did not think….. _you?_ You and Bronn Blackwater? Really?”

Much to my indignation he laughed out loud.

“It is not that funny!” I groused, although I was relieved to see that his anger had abated for the moment.

“Oh dear!” he guffawed, wiping his eyes. “Honestly, talk about getting the wrong end of the stick. You hardly talked to him and he was barely civil towards you. Where the Hell did she get such a stupid idea? I mean….”

“I proposed to him.”

His laughter died in his throat. He stared at me incredulously, clearly trying and failing to form a reply. He grasped the fireplace, his knuckles whitening as he did so.

“You did _what?”_ he said at last. I winced at the renewed anger in his tone.

“I proposed to him”, I said again. “He refused me.”

He shook his head several times, as if that would enable him to make sense of a world suddenly turned on its head.

“So let me get this straight”, he said, his eyes now dark with anger. “You did your best to split me from _Edmund_ Blackwater, because any alliance with that family would have been so very unsuitable, then you promptly went and proposed to his _brother?”_

I hung my head. It sounded even worse than when my.... Mr. Bronn Blackwater himself had challenged me over it.

“Not promptly”, I tried. “Some months later, when we met down in Kent.”

“And you think _that_ makes it better?” he all but shouted. “You.... you.... how could you?”

There was a prolonged silence between us. When he finally broke it, his voice was surprisingly gentle.

“You wanted me to come back here”, he said softly. “You thought the two of us might get back together.”

“I did”, I admitted. “I seem to find it hard to stop interfering. I am sorry, Adey.”

I looked warily at him, and was relieved to see that he looked a little calmer.

“I… I am rather glad you did, this time”, he said. He hesitated before going on, “you and Eddie's brother?”

“Not a chance”, I said glumly. “He may have softened a little, but underneath he still dislikes me for what I did to hurt his brother. He will never forgive me for that, I am sure.”

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

The following day Arthur prepared to go to Longbourn on his own, having first reassured me that he had forgiven me for everything and that we were still friends. I had never felt so relieved in my life before. My own romantic prospects might be deader than a door nail but at least I still had Arthur’s friendship, which I had greatly feared I might have forfeited by my foolish actions. I swore to myself that if he and Mr. Edmund Blackwater did get together, I would do everything in my power to make their lives as comfortable as possible.

I was taking myself off to London for a week or so to enable Arthur to have a clear field, although the wonderful fellow first extracted a promise that I would be back in time for the dinner at Longbourn. Even on the carriage ride down to the city I found myself wishing desperately to be back in Hertfordshire and with a certain blue-eyed omega. Who could never know the extent to which I had gone to salvage his family's honour and who, even if he had forgiven me for my insane actions last autumn, could never truly love me.

Two days after my departure from Netherfield I received the expected letter. It was almost illegible (even by Arthur's standards) but my friend proclaimed himself the happiest man alive and I was truly glad for him. If only my own prospects were not so poor. 

I was however just days away from a visit by someone who would, albeit inadvertently, blow my beliefs clean out of the water.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	16. A Second-Hand Emotion

**June 1808**

I was walking back from an afternoon appointment with my lawyer when I recognized a horribly familiar carriage outside my house. For some reason my great-aunt had left her beloved Rosings and had come to London. I briefly considered turning tail but reckoned that she was persistent enough to keep following me, even back to Hertfordshire. Better to deal with the old battleaxe here rather than there. 

She was waiting for me in the Yellow Room and, as usual, lost no time in setting about her business.

“I am sure that you will be aware of the reason for my visit, boy”, she began frostily.

Her voice was colder even than Mr. Bronn Blackwater's that time he had rejected me less than a mile from her house. And she only ever used 'boy' when she was really cross with me. I wondered what I had done to earn her opprobrium this time.

“Indeed madam, I am not”, I said levelly.

“Do not trifle with _me_ , boy!” she snapped. “Two days ago I received news of devastating import _in the general post!_ An alpha called Mr. Geoffrey Barras wrote me a letter from _Hertfordshire_ of all places, and mentioned that he fully expected to read of your impending engagement to Mr. Bronn Blackwater of all people! You who are engaged to my grand-daughter!”

I wondered briefly how Mr. Robert Barras' elder son, whom I had only been introduced to the one time, might think such a thing, before recalling that the alpha had been visiting the Blackwaters while I and Arthur were there. Obviously some look had betrayed my true feelings and the meddlesome young buck, jealous of anyone else's happiness, had seen fit to tattle on me. I was torn, unsure whether to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea of myself and Mr. Bronn Blackwater together after all I had done, or to again remind my relative that there was no such engagement between myself and Diana. I started to do the latter but predictably did not get very far.

“I am _outraged_ , boy!” she almost barked. “Outraged that you would behave in such a manner. And with such a family. Could you in all honesty have chosen any worse? Do not think I am unaware as to how base their connections are, and as for Mr. Bronn Blackwater – a rude, insufferable, manipulative, oversized omega who, it seems, is determined to have you! He even had the audacity to tell me – _me_ of all people! – that I had no business in this matter!”

I gasped as realization of what she had said struck home. 

“You have been to _Longbourn?”_ I exclaimed. “You have actually approached Mr. Bronn Blackwater in this matter? That was wrong of you indeed!”

“I am your nearest relative, boy”, she said unashamedly. “Your concerns are my concerns, especially since you are engaged to….”

“I am not engaged to Diana nor will I ever be”, I cut in, trying to control my rising temper. “You must tell her to look elsewhere for a husband. I love Mr. Bronn Blackwater and no other!”

I baulked inwardly as I spoke those words, but in view of my relative's attitude I felt them completely justified. Besides they were all too true.

“What has love got to do with it?” she demanded, her voice becoming ever more shrill. “What is love but a second-hand emotion? This is _marriage_ , boy! And to someone so eminently unsuitable, a base lump of a fellow who is determined to ensnare you. Do you know what he had the audacity to say to me? _Me,_ of all people? That he actually _admires_ you and thinks you are a far better gentleman than the world gives you credit for! That he praises you for your role in arranging things between your friend and his brother, which is something else I wish to talk with you about while I am here. That villainous upstart omega even threatened to have me thrown out of the house! _Me!_ ”

I had to turn away for a moment, speechless. Mr. Bronn Blackwater thought me _admirable?_ And he knew about my role in his youngest brother's marriage! My world was suddenly turned upside-down!

I gathered what was left of my wits and turned back to face my relative. 

“I fully intend to propose to Mr. Bronn Blackwater”, I said firmly, only narrowly managing to avoid adding ‘again’, “and I tell you now madam, there is nothing you can say or do that would dissuade me!”

She looked at me as if I had announced my intention to go off and murder a litter of puppies.

“I am sure that the whole family will shun this disastrous alliance, boy!”, she stormed. “If you marry that omega, he will not be admitted to Rosings for as long as I live!”

I drew myself up to my full height.

“The family have more sense than you give them credit for, madam”, I said, knowing that she was pretty much loathed by almost every other family member. “And should Monseigneur Bronn Lannister be barred from crossing the thresh-hold of Rosings, _you_ shall thenceforth no longer be admitted at Pemberley or at any property of mine, this one included!” 

She stared at me in shock, finally seeming to realize just how determined I was. There was a most painful silence.

“Farewell, boy”, she said at last, her voice dismissive. “I shall return to Kent and wait until you have come to your senses.”

I smiled pleasantly.

“I am quite sensible enough, madam”, I said, “so you do not need to wait. And soon I shall return to Longbourn – and to Mr. Bronn Blackwater! There I shall propose to him, and to him alone.”

She gave me a withering look, swept from the room and was gone. I waited until I was sure he heard the front door close behind her, then sank into a chair. 

_Admirable? A better gentleman?_ What on earth was going on?

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

Arthur was waiting on the steps of Netherfield as my carriage drew up. He looked – there was no other word or it; _glowing_. I felt another twinge of guilt for delaying that happiness as he had but he welcomed me effusively, spilling out the details of his (renewed) courtship even as we were ascending the steps. 

“I am so happy Jaime!”, he blubbered (seriously, alphas these days!). “He told me everything that happened in the past and he actually thought I might reject him because of it! The young idiot! I told him the past was the past and that we should plan for our future. I am going over to see him this afternoon.” He looked at me hesitatingly before adding almost shyly, “would you come?”

I smiled warmly at him. He seemed so happy now, and I again felt guilty at all I had done. 

“I will”, I said. “And do not worry about me; I am sure that Mrs. Blackwater will contrive something so that you two love birds can be alone.”

“We are not love birds!”

I just gave him a look.

“Shut up!”

“I did not say anything, Adey.”

“You have very loud thoughts!” he protested.

I smiled and went to get ready. Today, before I completely lost my nerve, I would tell Mr. Bronn Blackwater that I still felt the same about him as I had back in Kent and that I hoped fervently he might forgive me everything that had happened in the past. There was the danger that I would l get rejected a second time – the odds were heavily against me, I felt – but I had to do it. And even if he said I would have to wait a while until he could start to return me feelings, I would wait. 

I would wait for that man forever.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	17. Yes - And Never!

**June 1808**

I had approached Longbourn resolved to go through with this, no matter what humiliation I suffered as a result, But my determination suffered a setback before I even got to see my quarry, for I recognized the carriage of Mr. Jonathan Snow outside the house and remembered Mr. Smallwood's words. Surely the Good Lord would not.... or would He?

Sure enough Mr. Snow was inside the house and talking to _my_ omega, damn the fellow! I tried to control my emotions and thankfully the blather over Arthur's meeting with Edmund prevented anyone from noticing anything. Mr. Snow left (not before time) although he most definitely had words alone with Mr. Bronn Blackwater before he did so, which I did not like at all (and I was not overly enamoured of Arthur's smirk, either). 

Once the unwelcome visitor had gone Mrs. Blackwater suggested that the four of us walk over to some place called Barton Rise. I was not at all surprised when Arthur and Mr. Edmund Blackwater fell behind, but the latter's brother had a brooding look that I felt did not bode well. 

I took a deep breath. Here went nothing.

“I see that Mr. Snow was visiting”, I observed, silently cursing the fact that that had come out as far too aggressive. Fortunately he either missed it or was kind enough not to comment on it.

“Yes, he has been around a lot lately”, the omega said distractedly. “He is a very sound alpha.”

I was unable to suppress a growl.

“A friend of yours, is he?” I asked with strained politeness.

“After the recent _contretemps_ with his half-brother, he has been considering his own position”, Mr. Blackwater said. “That, as you yourself said, is important for an alpha, especially when it comes to marriage...”

_”What?!”_

That too may just have come out just a touch louder that had been fully warranted; indeed it was fortunate that his brother and my friend were far enough off not to hear me. Mr. Blackwater was clearly taken aback at my reaction; he moved away from me and I immediately felt chilled.

“He is a rich gentleman now”, he said, eyeing me warily. “It is to his family's credit that they do not hold his bloodline against him; he will make a fine husband for the right omega.”

Not for _my_ omega he will not, I thought angrily. 

“But I am glad we have this chance to talk”, he continued, stopping and leaning against a tree. “There is something that I feel I must say to you.”

Damnation! This had to be over my great-aunt and her great big mouth! 

But it was not.

“I… have become aware of the part you played in facilitating Robert’s marriage to Lieutenant Wickham”, he said, blushing for some reason. “I know that you must have expended a great deal of time and resources to secure this, let alone having had to deal with someone so vile. For that I am deeply grateful.”

“Did Mr. or Mrs. Smallwood tell you?” I asked, although even as I said it that seemed unlikely. He shook his head.

“They did not. Robert let slip your involvement in the whole business in a begging letter that he wrote to me and Edmund when Father would not receive him at the house. You have spared our family deep pain and for that I must thank you from the bottom of my heart. Moreover I know full well that Mr. Dayne would not have returned to Netherfield without your blessing, if not your guidance. Our family owes you a great deal….”

“I did it all for you!”

And there went my idea of working round to it gradually! He stared at me in shock. 

“I love you!” I blurted out, deciding that it was all or nothing now. “I am sorry. I know that I promised I would never bother you again in this matter, but…. when I met you at Pemberley, even though we only had a few days together, I knew that I would always love you. But say the word and I promise; I will never speak of this matter again. You have my word on that.”

Thus went arguably the worst second proposal of marriage in history. I turned away from the omega, unable to look him in the face after making such an abject fool of myself. After what seemed like an age I heard him scuffling his feet and coughing. Here it came.....

“I think…. I may have been a little bit prejudiced in my first opinion of you, Mr Lannister”, he said slowly. “I have seen the way you behave around others, the many things you do for them, the way you protect those you love – even if you do perhaps venture a little too far at times…”

I blushed but could still not look at him, even as his words gave me hope. He hurried on.

“But you are a good alpha, and perhaps our first meeting was not exactly the best way to be introduced.”

I reddened even further at the shameful memory.

“I am sorry for that”, I said. “The way I treated you at that first ball – it was unforgivable.”

“For everything you have done since, I have forgiven you”, he said, managing a small smile.

“You… would be prepared to be my friend?” I asked, risking a quick glance at him. 

He sighed then smiled. He was so damn beautiful!

“I... _could_ be your friend”, he said, his smile widening. “I suspect that your great-aunt called on you in London after she descended on me here?”

“She did”, I admitted, wincing at the memory of that encounter. “She said you had told her you thought me... admirable. A better gentleman than people thought.”

“She provoked me intensely”, he said. “I told her what I truly felt, and she did not take it at all well. I even threatened to have her forcibly removed at one point but she stormed off.”

I had to chuckle at the idea of my great-aunt not getting her way, let alone at the hands of ' a mere omega'.

“I know”, I said. “She was still fuming when she reached London. I do not think that I much improved her mood, either.”

“Captain Fortescue warned me about her fixation as to you and her daughter”, he said. “Your great-aunt was sure that I was out to entrap you into matrimony.”

I said nothing, but stared at his mouth as if the answers to all my problems were somehow therein. They likely were.

“I... I do rather like you, Mr. Lannister”, he said slowly. “I am sorry I was so.... frank when you proposed to me in Kent. It was unbecoming. You deserved better....”

And suddenly, something in me broke. Moving before my frazzled brain quite knew what it was about I turned and shoved the surprised omega against the nearest tree, kissing him like my life depended on it. I fully expected to feel his poniard somewhere near my vitals or at least a well-aimed knee, but to my shock and amazement he simply melted into my grasp as if he had always belonged there. I finally had to let him go in order to draw breath but I still held him firmly by the shoulders, his blue eyes looking up into mine in surprise. 

Lord, what had I done now?

“I... er... I....” 

Jaime Lannister, master of Pemberley and Master Wordsmith. I looked pleadingly at the omega, and to my relief he smiled at me.

“Well, your method of proposing is a touch irregular”, he observed, making me blush once more. “Am I to count that as a 'statement of renewed affections', Mr. Lannister? Because if you intend to actually put it into words, I should warn you now that any such offer would stand a strong chance of being accepted.”

I got down on one knee so fast that I nearly fell over. Master Wordsmith and bumbling fool all rolled into one.

“Mr. Blackwater, will you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?”

To my utter horror he seemed to actually be just thinking about it and frowning. Then he suddenly smiled.

“I did say just 'a strong chance'”, he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Hmm. I suppose that I _might_ consider you.” 

“Why, you little...!”

Before I could react he had dropped to his knees and was kissing me hard. And I, Mr. Jaime Lannister master of Pemberley and nephew to the Earl of Hexhamshire, did not mind one little bit.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

We walked slowly back to Longbourn, arriving to find that Edmund and Arthur there already presumably having returned via a different route. During our walk I found to my intense relief that my love had been acting as an intermediary in Mr. Snow's affections towards young Mr. Roderick Payne, and had come to Longbourn earlier that day seeking advice as to how one proposed as he was terrible with words (very generously he did not look at me when saying that although there was definitely a smile). Whatever; my perfect omega was mine and mine alone, and would remain that way for as long as we lived!

Fortunately Mrs. Blackwater was so intent on her second son's happiness that she did not notice the unusually long time her eldest one had been absent. My love was desperate to share his happiness with Edmund but he and I agreed that that apart we would not speak to anyone else until I had received his father's sanction for the match. Which I soon did, subject to giving that gentleman ten minutes' head start through the French windows so he could avoid his wife's shrieking when she was told. 

Ten minutes, I suspected, was probably not long enough.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

The only question now was whether to have a double marriage or two on consecutive days, and my beloved Bronn even spared me the horrors of all the planning which was wonderful of him. Though insisting that I wait until after the wedding was on the other hand plain cruel! There were also many people to be informed of our nuptials, which elicited a letter from one Mr. Robert Wickham asking when he and his lame excuse for a husband might wait on us at Pemberley.

“The twelfth of never!” I snarled, much to Bronn's amusement.

Happiest of all for us was, I think, Tyrion, who in Bronn found the perfect brother. Longbourn was also blessed with a surprise visit from the Reverend Harry Blackwater-Strickland and his mate who had decamped there after my great-aunt had received the news of my proposal. She had written me an angry letter of such pure vitriol that I swore I would get my solicitor to draft a reply, cutting off all communication with her for good. But my wonderful Bronn begged me not to, and eventually I wrote back something considerably gentler than her words had deserved. 

And so to what was indeed a double wedding, with the local priest Father Joshua presiding. Arthur had decided to quit Netherfield and, to the joy of both myself and Bronn, he and Edmund were able to purchase Lynton Grange which was less than four miles down the road from Pemberley so we all became neighbours. Less than half a year after one of the darkest periods in my life, I could truly say that things had never been better.

Except that they very soon were.

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩


	18. Epilogue: The Hump

**August 1808**

I had more than a few questions this far too bright summer's morning as I limped painfully around Pemberley. Firstly, who the blazes had moved the breakfast-room to the other side of Derbyshire? Secondly, how on earth had my mate been _that_ flexible? And thirdly why did I, a supremely athletic alpha, ache in places no alpha should ever have ached in?

I admit, the sex had been wonderful and.... surprising, but I was paying for it now and then some!

I completed the endless nightmare that was the stairs and limped the last mile or so to the breakfast-room door held open by Smith, a footman who was one smirk away from being an ex-footman. The hard floor sent a spasm of pain up through my broken body at every step, and my eyes watered at the terrible thought that I had been supposed to go riding later on.... no way, absolutely no way!

Damnation! Fourthly, why the hell did the Imp have to be there sat across from my mate, the two of them grinning inanely at my very slight discomfiture.

“We saved you some food”, said Bronn in a deliberately loud voice, the bastard. “Come join us, beloved.”

I smiled at the endearment – damnation, even that made my face ache! - and managed the final half-mile to my chair. On it were two very large and vibrantly cerise cushions, very clearly put there by the teasing bastards who were making half-hearted attempts to hide their smirks. I would have thrown something at one or both of them but it would have been a waste of good food and would have involved movement of limbs that were still not on speaking terms with me after last night. Besides, I _needed_ those cushions! 

I lowered myself slowly, glaring at the two omegas who were faking conversation while obviously watching me descend. I managed to get down with only a very few small exclamations of slight unease, then sighed with happiness.

“Are you not going to get yourself some breakfast, brother?” the Imp asked innocently.

I looked at the platters of delicious food, the nearest of which was at least three feet away. My broken limbs shuddered in anticipation of my even trying to reach for them.

“I had better serve my alpha”, Bronn grinned. “Like a loyal mate.”

I _knew_ there had been a reason I had married him!

“Serve what you left of him after last night”, said the Imp. “If you are going to make changes here, you might try sound-proofing your room. I had to move across to the East Wing!”

He was in severe danger of moving a lot further, namely all the way back to London. _On foot!_

My mate filled a plate with food and I very generously chose to overlook the unnecessary clattering that he made. I fell on his offerings with relish, especially as it enabled me to ignore the grinning ha'p'orths in the room. 

“So, Bronn”, Tyrion said in far too loud a voice. “How is married life? Full of, er, ups and downs?”

I looked up rather too quickly to glare at the Imp. Even that made my head hurt!

“I believe in give and take”, Bronn smiled. “The master of Pemberley can, I assure you, take it like a man. And those posters around the bed are really useful!”

I scowled at his bluntness – Smith and Aske _both_ sniggered, damn the fellows! - but could not gainsay the villain. I had never even thought an omega would..... well, I had never thought an omega _would_. Just my luck that I had ended up with one that apparently did, which was why the stairs had seemed so long this morning.

All right, I _had_ enjoyed it, and I had asked him to do it again – yes, twice - but that is not the point!

“It is vital that my husband fulfils his share of the marital duties”, Bronn said easily. “Even more so next February or thereabouts.”

I looked at him curiously.

“Why then?” I asked, quietly proud I could manage words (albeit spoken softly) without hurting too much. “St. Valentine's Day?”

He grinned knowingly, then ran a hand over his stomach. My eyes widened and I shot to my feet in triumph. I may or may not have also uttered a very small exclamation of pain.

“AAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!”

“They probably heard that down in Derby”, Tyrion grinned. “Congratulations Bronn. Oh, well done you too, brother.”

I was too busy racing – all right, limping – around the table to embrace my wonderful, pregnant mate. And if there were tears, well, the maids really needed to dust the room better. I was going to be a father!

My eyes widened in horror. I was going to be a......

Fortunately the Imp had a large whisky ready – he was good for some things, I suppose - and I downed in one gulp.

“Good of _you_ to mark the occasion”, Bronn said pointedly. “How about the omega who is going to be doing all the work for the next six months?”

“You cannot”, Tyrion pointed out. “Bad for the boy.”

“Not as bad as it will be for some”, my mate grinned.

I pulled back and looked at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” I asked. He chuckled.

“Well”, he said, “for us omegas the month or two after confirmation is known as the Hump. That's when we want sex.”

“Not much of a deterrent”, I snorted, although I could actually feel my body parts looking at me in horror as I said it.

“Pretty much all day and every day”, Bronn finished.

Last night on repeat? For two whole months? That would surely kill me!

۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩۩

It very nearly did!

FINIS


End file.
